Showing posts with label Bronchitis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bronchitis. Show all posts

Friday, December 27, 2013

Five Ways to Get Over a Really Bad Cold

I'm just about over a really bad cold, and as a public service I want to pass on to you the nuggets of wisdom I gained last week and the week before while coughing myself all to pieces.

1) See the doctor.

The doctor will check all those vital signs that are supposed to be ticking along in good order. The doctor will listen to your chest. The doctor will tell you if you have bronchitis, or asthma, or both, and prescribe drugs that will ultimately cause you to feel better. Maybe you have pneumonia. You would want to know that before you kill yourself running around. Do what the doctor tells you.

2) Stay home.

There is nothing noble in bravely soldiering on with a contagious disease. Dragging your germ-ridden body to work, infecting your friends, coughing and sneezing on your co-workers, is a bad idea. You're sick, for cat's sake. The world will get along just fine without you for a little while.

3) Take naps.

This is not to say, go to bed and stay there. You don't want to do that. It will give you pneumonia. (My sister told me so.) But take naps, get as much rest as you can, and when you do go to bed at night, prop up your head and shoulders on a foam wedge or a pile of pillows. It helps a lot with coughing. You might even get a full night's sleep.

4) Drink a lot of ice water.

I know, I know, you'd rather have whiskey. Or fruit juice. But, listen, you can't taste it anyway, so why not drink the very healthiest thing? It will loosen up your cough. It will wash away impurities (whatever they are). Fruit juice has a lot of sugar, which encourages germs to grow. Whiskey is better consumed when you can appreciate it.

5) Watch Fred Astaire movies.

You're scratching your head. What, you ask, will Fred Astaire do for my cold? Well, I'll tell you. When you're planted on the couch in front of the television, your lungs full of glue, your ass made out of cement, your feet nothing but dead distant lumps, Fred will model what it is to get up and move with energy and grace. Look at what he does with his hands. Couldn't you do that, if you tried really hard? Already you're sitting up straighter. Can your feet be far behind?


© 2013 Kate Gallison


Friday, February 8, 2013

Graceland

The head cold that has been all over Lambertville got on me last week and promptly relocated to my chest as a case of bronchitis. Man. I haven’t had bronchitis since I was twenty, when I still smoked cigarettes. It feels strange. Besides the coughing it comes with a fever, addling the brain, sapping the energy, causing me to forget what I’m even doing here.

A few weeks ago PBS ran a special on Paul Simon and how he went to South Africa back in the eighties, in the days of apartheid, and hired some local bands to come to a studio and jam with him. Their mutual inspiration resulted in Simon’s hit album Graceland. I missed it the first time around. I remember You Can Call Me Al, a great number, but the other songs I missed. So I bought the album from ITunes just before I got sick.

And now it’s the only thing that will get me on my feet. It's true. These tunes will raise the dead. No sleep for three days, no appetite, hardly any reason to carry on at all, and yet these African jazz sounds get me up and dancing.

Check this one out. Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes. I defy you to sit still, I don't care what shape you're in.



Kate Gallison