Colds are such tasteless things
I hate colds. And the one I have now is a pip.
This cold has me stuffed up, achy and coughing. In short, I feel as miserable and dejected as Karl Rove must've felt the day after the last presidential election.
I got this cold Tuesday from my wife, who does not understand that two people don't have to share everything.
Luckily, unlike her, I didn't get laryngitis. That was good, because on Wednesday I was slated to give a talk before the Lancaster Rotary Club, and I didn't feel like addressing such a distinguished bunch of folks in a croaking voice that sounded like someone strangling a wolverine.
As it was, my cold made me miss out on a fine buffet meal.
Oh, I ate it, all right.
But to my disease-numbed palate, the succulent roast-pork barbecue tasted exactly the same as the scalloped potatoes, which tasted exactly the same as the baked beans, which tasted exactly the same as the tossed salad, which tasted exactly the same as the lemonade, which tasted exactly the same as my glass of water.
I did go to work after the talk, but left after a few hours with the feeling that I'd be much more comfortable dying in my bed rather than at my desk.
Thursday I took a sick day and went to my family doctor, so you know I was sick. I generally avoid going to my doctor unless it's for something serious, like an arrow sticking out of my head.
It's not that I don't like my doctor, or rather doctors, as there are three of them at the family practice. It's just that I don't always trust them, especially since I passed the age of 50.
If you're a guy and over 50, doctors suddenly take a keen interest in a thing called the prostate.
I am not sure what the prostate does, but the test to check it is disgusting. It involves bending over, after which the doctor does to you physically what Congress does to us figuratively. That's why when I visit my doctor, I never let him get around in back of me.
During Thursday's visit to my doctor, whom I kept in front of me the whole time, he came up with a new invasive procedure: a flu screen.
This is where the nurse takes a length of plastic that, the nearer it comes to your nose, the more it looks like the size of your standard fishing rod, and she puts it up one nostril until the tip visibly protrudes from your ear. Or, at least, that's how it feels.
My flu screen came back negative, and the doctor announced that I had a cold, which is what I came to be seen for in the first place. And since it was a cold, the only treatment is cough medicine and cold remedies, which are what I had been doing.
I did get a prescription for a thing called a Z-pack, which is an industrial-strength antibiotic to be used if I still cough badly in a few days, but which will not cure my cold.
I'm starting to feel better now, and might even be regaining my sense of taste. At least I hope so. That's because, according to an e-mail I received from Krups, Sunday is National Beer Day.
I never knew we had a National Beer Day. At least I've never seen any greeting cards or wrapping paper to that effect.
But Krups, the German company best-known for its coffee makers, kindly pointed that out to me.
Of course, they did it so they could try to sell me a BeerTender machine.
The machine, the e-mail says, will allow "beer connoisseurs" -- I assume they mean me -- to keep premier beers such as "Heineken, Heineken Premium Light and Newcastle Brown Ale" (I guess the machine explodes if you use sub-standard beers) at the "optimal serving temperature of 37.4 degrees."
So, taste buds, hurry up and get well. Tomorrow is party day.