Being sick sucks

Being sick sucks

A week of life being shut down because your body is too weak to deal with a tiny germ.

Winter is coming.  And no, that’s not me quoting a line from Game of Thrones.  Winter is the harbinger of disease, and with its coming arrives the inevitable winter colds, flus and other nasties that invade human hosts to make them sick and miserable for days and sometimes weeks on end.  Where I live, winter comes a little quicker than in some other areas of the states, and now that the weather is changing, a cold has seized hold of me.

If I worked a normal job or was still in college, I might welcome such an event.  The pain of the disease is sometimes worth being able to take a week off to just lie in bed and catch up on the many television shows that I’ve not had time to watch.  But when you write for a living, a cold is nothing more than a clog in the brain.  I already spend half my damn time on the couch anyway, only now I can’t get my brain to put one word in front of the next to any effect.

Why must these horribly frail things we call bodies fail us in this manner on a regular basis?  Admittedly, I am heartier than most, usually only getting one annoying illness each winter season, but when it comes it always seems to arrive at precisely the wrong time.  Deadlines approach, editors are demanding my work and I’m still stuck on the couch trying to put one letter in front of the next.  If not for my spell-check, I’d be in deep crap.

There’s only one thing worse than getting sick and that’s the medication that people make to alleviate said sickness.  Cold and flu medicines produce a mind-numbing affect that far outshines the cloudy-headedness of the disease itself.  If I wanted to go to sleep for two days straight then those medicines would be perfect.  Unfortunately, I still got work to do, so there is no relief in sight.

One of these days, scientists need to come up with a way to make our immune systems super-powered.  When I can get injected with little nanobots that kick diseases’ asses before they take hold, I’m signing up.  Give me a hangover any day of the week, but leave my stuffy head to my own design.  I don’t need no stinkin’ plague working its way through my body and putting me in limbo for a week.