Growing up, I was pretty care-free, health-wise. There were some allergies that ran in my family, but through dumb luck, I never fell prey. I got the occasional cold, blah blah blah. All that changed when I lived in Ohio for two years--people warned me that they had nicknamed our little corner of the state Sinus Valley for the detrimental effect that it had on people's health. I don't know whether it was acid rain or what, but ever since then, I can count on Quarterly Sinus Reports.
Such as the one that's going on now, in roughly this order:
- Clog, where it feels as though a balloon is being inflated inside my head
- Drain, where it feels as though my head is being melted and poured down my throat
- Rasp, where that meltage cleans off the pesky protective surfacing of my throat, reducing my voice to a pale croak of its normal self
- Clog, where it feels as though (a) I've been kicked in the chest, and/or (b) elves are reassembling my head inside of my ribcage
Permeating all 4 stages, of course, is Ache, where it's so difficult for me to sleep that I inevitably locate the worst possible positions for doing so, thereby guaranteeing that my arms, shoulders, and back will punish me for the sin of motion during my waking hours. We're currently settled into stage 3, battling it fiercely with our comrades-in-arms Vitamin C, Ginger Ale, and Orange Sherbet. If we can make it through the night, we have it on good authority that reinforcements are soon to arrive in the form of Chicken Soup and Saltines, completing the 5 Food Groups of Sick.
The funny thing is that, other than the Ache, my body doesn't feel that badly. It's not as though I don't have normal energy--I'm not bed-ridden or anything. But ask me to focus for more than about five minutes? Not bloody likely. Ugh.
