Assuming that this post does not get embroiled in any copyright infringement cases thanks to the derivative nature of the title, I choose not to change it. However, even the casual reader shall be able to observe by the end of the post, that the title is indeed apt.
Now, regular readers will have no trouble in recalling that I am no stranger to respiratory illnesses. In fact, I get along rather well with them. I am remarkably susceptible to colds, coughs, throat and chest infections. I thank my stars that I have not yet managed to land myself with something more serious, such as tuberculosis (for which I recently returned a negative skin test) or a pulmonary edema.
To be fairly honest, irrespective of the fact of whether I have a genetically-inherited tendency to catch bugs, my morning shenanigans (a rather loose and censored translation of what Mum likes to call my self-imposed morning fitness regime) do nothing to ameliorate the situation. In fact, the excessive sweating and exposure to varied allergens in the park are very much contributing factors to my repetitive and temporary invalidation (the successful interpretation of the term requires using 2 different definitions of the word).
It’s a cycle I began observing a long time ago, but was helpless to change – approximately 2 weeks of the fitness regime, followed by another 2 weeks of R&R (rest and recuperation). I’m not trying to portray myself as the struggling athlete – just your average guy trying to attain a decent level of fitness and, additionally, get rid of a frankly embarrassing tummy. But if I stand back and observe the trends, it doesn’t take a leap of faith to understand that I’ve probably just broke even – the benefits of exercise being squarely offset by the ravages of various diseases.
In fact, I can even tell you the exact way the illness proceeds. It begins with a slightly leaky nose. Within 24-48 hours, the nose is usually clogged, and usually, the sinuses too. This is usually when the frantic hot steam treatment begins, but needless to say, it doesn’t really help. The next dawn usually heralds the coming of the scratch. The scratch at the back of my throat that sounds the death knell for any and every form of exercise, excursion and indeed, any semblance of normal life for another week or two. Again, frantic hot water treatments and saline gargles do little to stem the offensive unleashed by the invading microbes. As my antibodies take to the ramparts to defend the fort, lymph nodes swell to epic (and usually painful) proportions.
For a while, there seems to be a stalemate – with neither hand gaining the upper hand. And then, the body, damaged by the ravages of war, loses control of temperature and a fever sets in. It should be duly noted that my Mum’s blood pressure is inexplicably linked and directly proportional to my body temperature. This is usually when all home remedies are abandoned and the medical opinion of a registered practitioner sought.
At the clinic, tongues are depressed, flashlights are shone in, perfunctory sympathetic clucks are issued, stethoscopes are placed on various sides of the torso, deep breaths are taken, wheezing is heard, and finally, rest, antiallergics, antibiotics and antipyretics are prescribed in an attempt to contain the infection. Given a week, the body is usually back to normal.
Rinse. Repeat. Every month. Except this time.
A couple of weeks ago – almost 3, in fact, my time of the month arrived on schedule. Shortly after another successful stint at running and working out, of course. I can’t quite recall, but this time, it just went straight for my throat – literally and figuratively speaking. There was no cold, no wheezing, no fever. Just a terrible, terrible throat. At one point, I was nearly croaking – some friends will testify to this fact.
The good doctor, at first, was so convinced about my allergic reactions that he prescribed a bunch of antiallergic drugs without so much as inspecting my throat. I kid you not. Naturally, 3 days of that treatment did me no good whatsoever, and since I was in a state where sleep was not easy to come by, on account of acute breathlessness as soon as my head was laid on my pillow, a second opinion was sought, from the same doctor. A different, yet predictable course of medication was prescribed, and dutifully followed. However, unlike infections of yore, this one proved far too stubborn.
However, apart from the greatly reduced physical activity, social life continues as normal. Friends are met, malls are visited, submarine sandwiches eaten, movies seen – without much of an effect, either conducive to, or against my good health.
Soon, paranoia sets in, and a number of new possible allergens are lined up against the wall. This list of presumed-to-be-OK-until-every-other-allergen-has-been-absolutely-ruled-out household items includes, but is not limited to:
- Mosquito repellent
- Pillows
- Sennheiser headphones
- Sambar
- Garnier Shampoo+Oil
I could go on, but for the sake of my sanity, I won’t. Needless to say, other future projects, such as swimming, and the suggested switch to a gym, instead of a park for my workouts, have all been shelved till this situation can be de-escalated to a DEFCON 5 level.
Another ENT specialist was consulted, who after a long and thorough investigatory project, which included but was not limited to prying open nostrils using tweezers (it tickles – a lot), it was declared that I have a rather bad case of pharyngitis, and there was considerable redness and swelling in my throat. Another fresh prescription was filled out, which included another antibiotic, antacids and a germicidal gargle. This pleasant concoction of medicines has made life somewhat more livable, but 3 weeks into this infection, I can say that this could well surpass the one-month barrier.
Little else to say really, except that this entire business is much more annoying than it is debilitating.