Stef left work early yesterday. She stayed home today. She has a cold. I know my daughter is suffering because she hates missing work.
I have bad news for her. It’s not the worst cold in the world. That cold is reserved for her father!
Monday night she swigged Nyquil which helped her sleep. When she woke up she tried Dayquil. Sorry, her ‘quil’ success rate stands at 50%!
“You know it’s bad,” she said, “I went through a whole box of tissues today.”
Compelling evidence, but number one worst cold still belongs to me. That’s obvious from my outward suffering when I have one. I am a stoic. I’d never kvetch just to raise the level of drama. Honest Helaine, I wouldn’t.
Why can’t we cure this common cold? Shouldn’t there be a “Common Cold Research Bureau” working feverishly to help those working feverishly?
Last year Britain’s Independent said,
Scientists believe the first clinical trials of new drugs based on the findings could begin within two to five years.
I’ve got a
dollar pound that says we’re still two to five years away!
Back when Stef was a baby and got the sniffles she was often a nose blow away from relief. Babies don’t know how to blow their noses. It hurt me to see her discomfort.
Your child is always your child. It hurts me to hear of her discomfort today.
Hopefully she’ll be on the mend tomorrow. If the normal cold schedule holds true she might feel nearly human by the weekend.
In the interim maybe Helaine can FedEx her some chicken soup?