I’m old and there are wolves sniffing around

I get an average number of colds a year, one every 2 months I think. I know they’re going to show up at some time, and they’re going to hang around for about 2 weeks from start to finish. There’s no point in getting upset or surprised when this happens, because it’s inevitable.

I would like to think that I am not unusually soft and delicate, that I can take my fair share of physical discomfort without resorting to whimpering and pleas for mercy, but this current visit from Herr Cold is testing me.  First, there was a day of pretty intense joint pain, much more than the playful ‘achiness’ I expect. Tucking my feet underneath me and sitting that way for more than a few minutes would buy me a very uncomfortable moment of knee extending, complete with clenched teeth and difficult to suppress muttering. That passed after a day as the cold moved on to its favourite haunt, my throat and left ear. Oh, the fiery throat pain that woke me up for two consecutive nights. The throat pain has lessened considerably, though last night I discovered that Buckley’s cough syrup and a raw throat wound combine to form a napalm attack. Now, my sinuses are slowly draining, and my brain is freeing up some processor time to think about creative pursuits, and I’m spending some of that brainpower complaining here. A good use of my potential? What a rude question, hypothetical interrogator.

The intensity of this illness has shaken up my illusion of predictability. I thought I had a pretty good benchmark for the impact and severity of the average cold I might catch, but this hearty illness is working well outside of my accepted parameters. I wonder if I’m seeing the first hallmarks of age-related symptom intensification. I know, I’m not old: I’m not even 40 yet. But my 37 years of life (and 250+ pounds of weight) have been hard on my knees, and my left knee in particular is sensitive.  Stop lurking in the window, mortality! I’m busy!