Achoo! This schnoz is redder than any clown’s most brilliant best, and my skin is whiter than pastry flour.

Hack, hack, hack! With globs of rancid, stagnant goo heavy in my lungs and refusing to budge, my passages are overly irritated and I find myself gasping for oxygen.

Geeze, this is a doozie, and at times, I think I’m down for the count. With a far less than perfect immune system, I can be assured of two dastardly bouts each year.

In my foggy, needing sleep brain, I listen to a ring announcer’s voice as it bellows, “In this corner, is the champion, Cold Bacteria, and in the other, Little Ms. Kenzie O’Hara (who doesn’t stand a fighting chance). Now, shake hands and come out fighting.”

Shake hands? No, no way. Contact is one sure way of catching something.


Positive thinking, downing an Olympic size pool of water, swallowing a gamut of vitamins and supplements so enormous they could choke Godzilla, washing my hands until no amount of moisturizer suffices, inhaling mentholated vapors that I also rub on the bottom of my feet (read an article proclaiming anti-cough effects), nothing brings relief.

Though exhausted, precious, healing sleep is naught. The moment sweet dreams arrive, they are interrupted by a barrage of hacking gags, or I’m convinced I’m drowning as inflamed sinuses refuse to allow the slightest particle of air to pass. Not breathing through my nose is one of my worse nightmares as the passing of air through the oral cavity dries the membranes to the consistency of the Sahara desert with lips to match.



Each day, after a brief snippet of shuteye, I awake to think, I’m getting better.

Ha! The scourge has other plans.

Well, perhaps tomorrow?

One would think by this time in life, some immunity, some resistance would exist, but no.

So, as I engage in yet another battle, unable to think of much else, I leave you with a link to what I hope is the last vestiges of winter.

Click to access icefestivalchina.pdf

The massive ice and snow creations are impressive and beautiful, but, winter, please say ado until the heat of summer makes me cry for the return of autumn’s grandeur and your snowy delights. For now, I’ve definitely had my fill.


Oh, glorious Spring, I await your astounding displays of bloom. Of course, with your arrival, hay fever and allergies will call for oceans of nasal spray and tons of antihistamines.

Seems, there is no end.

It is said, “Misery loves company.”  This strikes me odd, as I find in my own suffering, I much prefer to be alone.  Who wants to wallow in their plight with another sneezing, coughing, sleepless grump by their side?  Mm, not me.


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