It started with a sniff.
Then a sneeze.
Then even a cough or two mixed in with a sore throat.
And then my nose exploded. Well OK, I don’t mean exploded. It is still very much attached to my face and looks the same as it always has. But what the hell is trying to escape from it?
I hate colds. OK, so show me a person that enjoys them…but really…I hate them. I mean honestly, the idea of some being from another world climbing up my nose and blocking it up, and then what I can only describe as it having “A not so tidy stomach” trying to escape on a minute by minute basis through my nostrils. But that isn’t good enough. I have to help it along by aid of a good hardy blow.
I can only liken the sound I am making as a noise like an elephant trying to dislodge a pineapple from it’s trunk . I then get lightheaded and make my daughter cry with the noise.
But it isn’t only the nose thing, it’s the feeling hot constantly. That’s OK, I put a fan on. But the fan…well, it’s not so good. And by not so good, I mean if you were to stand in say 45c heat in India and get the local asthmatic to blow on you through a blocked tube. It’s useless. So I am sweating and leaking. Not from the same place I should add. Yet.
I need vitamins. So I have been drinking a berocca a day. For those that have no idea what it is, it’s one of those “I have 30000% of your RDA of every vitamin known to mankind!” type tablets that you stick in water and stare as it fizzes until you realise you need to get a life. The downsideupside to this is that after taking it, the next time you pee, it is like you are Luke Skywalker preparing for battle. I stand at public urinals making noises like a lightsabre and moving too and fro as my pee turns from “charming” to “It glows in the dark!”. To this day I haven’t been beaten up by some guy that thinks I am coming on to him…maybe because he can see I am having way too much fun with myself to be interested in whatever the hell he is doing.
But sadly, a few days later I am feeling worse. I can’t breath through my nose at all and sleeping at night is becoming a bit of a worry as I am concerned I will shut my mouth (it’s unlikely but hey!) and then wont be able to breath…and I will die of a common cold.
Along comes the vapour rub. That stuff that you can put on night or day, but you only put it on at night as some smart arse will say “*sniff* Vicks vapour rub? Do you have a cold?” while looking at you with your red eyes watering all over the place, a voice like Joan Rivers on crack and a nose so red from blowing it that you can almost see the arse of the alien that has climbed up there trying to escape mid poo. Of course, had they just seen that you haven’t showered for 3 days (or is that just me when I am ill?), they would have been able to tell.
But regardless, the night came and I gave myself a good rub. Of the vapour rub obviously. I decided that I wouldn’t wash my hands as they now smelt so good and with my hands near the pillow, I could take full advantage of the vapoury goodness.
Until I had an itch.
Down there.
Without a care in the world, I had a scratch.
*tick* *tock* went the clock for about ten seconds.
Hmmm…that’s…oh my….argh….why did someone just get a meat tenderiser and crack me in the manhood with it! So in my infinite wisdom, I tried to rub off any that may have got on the little guy….with the same hands that did the damage in the first place.
It wasn’t fun. So climbing out of bed, I get to the bathroom via a hopping motion of a rabid bunny with only one leg. It was about this point my wife woke up, and hearing the water running in the bathroom and a voice saying “Oh yeah…yeah…that’s better…ahhh…a little bit more…uh-huh” she opened the bathroom door to see her husband with his joy department sat over the edge of the sink and is splashing cold water on to soothe the pain.
“I had a vapour rub moment!” I said coyly. She went back to bed, probably to note that she needs to get a divorce.
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