Levedy

Worst. Cold. Ever.

I hab a code. I hade codes. Dey stink.

Actually, it’s not the cold per se that is so awful. Sneezing and coughing are annoying, to be sure (especially when your body wants to hack hack hack in the middle of the night) but the worst part is the temporary suspension of normal synapse firing.

In other words, when I am sick my brain, she no work.

I find myself stopping in the middle of a sentence, wondering (a) what the hell was I talking about and (b) what’s that word for the metal thing on four wheels that you drive to work in? It’s absolutely awful. Last night was the first night of an LSAT class I’m teaching in preparation for the December exam. I’m supposed to be the smart one in the room. I’m supposed to be snazzy and brilliant and funny. While I didn’t do a poor job, let’s just say I wasn’t at my…..wait….what’s that word that’s more than better?

Just take TheraFlu, Lindsey says. It’s fabulous. The injustice of it all is that I can’t take adult cold medicine. For some reason, my body reacts…interestingly to adult-level medications.

Not all medications make me loopy. My body scoffs at Aspirin and Ibuprofen. I could eat those puppies like potato chips and not affect my headaches. I might as well try to empty a swimming pool with a shot glass. Midol is more effective for me than anything. I have just about given up on the aspirin. I will take Midol at the slightest twinge of a headache. I’ll take Midol if I get a particularly nasty hangnail. I love Midol. They should put it in Diet Pepsi and save me a step.

Wait…what was I talking about…ah, yes. Cold medicine.

I discovered my dreaded reaction years ago when I was in high school. I had been selected to go to some Youth Conference thing. The even t had only two clear goals: to let teenagers who thought they were smart discuss sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, and to give us something that looked quasi-intellectual on our college résumés. The event was held at the Las Vegas Convention Center, a site that hosts the annual porn film festival, Comdex, and, apparently, high school kids with aspirations of joining the debate team. (Not at the same time, although that would have been interesting. Vegas. What a town.)

That morning, I decided to take DayQuil for a rather nasty cold I was fighting. I wanted to be sharp, and I hate the throbbing brain dampening field that a stuffy head creates.

At the convention, 40 or so teenagers (my friend Tom included) were seated in a big ring in one of the convention rooms. We were taking turns arguing about some issue or another (I don’t remember what the issue was. I was three sneezes to the wind). I was busy trying to concentrate on what others were saying, so I decided to look down at the carpet.

That was a bad move.

I don’t know that Vegas has cornered the market on bad carpeting, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Native Las Vegans know well the sort of crazed design work that goes into designing casino carpeting. Apparently, the hoteliers approached a carpet manufacturer and said “We have a few ideas. The carpet must never show dirt of wear. It must hide stains. In fact, we want a human being to be eviscerated whilst standing on the carpet, and his entrails will not stand out substantially from the rest of the design of the carpet.” The carpets that line casino and convention floors are akin to HR Puffenstuff’s vision of the Fourth of July. It’s bad. Really bad. It’s always a very busy, overly colorful print. This was not the pattern I should have been staring at after having taken Dayquil (Now with LSD!) However, since I was pretty dizzy from the cold medicine, I thought it would be a good idea to stare closely at the carpet.

But then I realized it was staring back at me.

I quickly looked away, like we all do when someone catches us staring. I wouldn’t want to make the carpet feel awkward, after all. It’s bad enough having to be walked over all day, but to have someone stare at you is entirely too much.

I decided to stare up at the ceiling instead. It was white with no human-intestine design work, so I thought I was safe.

The ceiling was breathing.

At first I thought that odd, but then I thought to myself: “How often do you stare at ceilings, Jen? They could have been holding their breath all that time, you know.” I can always rely on the intellectual side of my brain to chirp in at the appropriate time. I was watching the ceiling breathe in and out when I felt a nudge at my arm.

I snapped to, and noticed that the entire group was staring at me. Apparently, my turn to respond had come…and gone. I was told later that there was only about 10 seconds of staring involved, but that was 10 seconds too many, as far as I’m concerned.

Other experiences with cold medicines produce the same effect. The world becomes very Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds for about an hour, and then I collapse from exhaustion. The only solution to my predicament is to buy children’s cold remedies, which work well enough for me.

The major downside, however, in buying cold medicine that’s meant for toddlers is that I can’t get in to the #$%ing packaging. They seal the stuff in a titanium alloy. I can’t get in. I have to take the box to the five year-old kid next door and ask him to open it for me.

What was I talking about again?

Posted by Jen at October 14, 2004 10:30 AM