Head Colds

Sniffling. Sneezing. Congestion. When all three of those occur at the same time it usually portends the arrival of one of my least favorite things: A head cold. There are two key contributing factors that make me miserable when I have a head cold: 1. Runny nose- I hate blowing my nose. Always have, always will. Mom used to say that she had to chase me around the house when I was a kid, hold me down, kicking and screaming the whole time while she repeatedly yelled "BLOW"! If I could get away with it I wouldn't mind doing what I've seen a lot of old men do and that is to hold a finger to one side of the nostril and blow as hard as they can out the other side. A shooting stream of snot, usually yellow in color, will be expelled just like that. Gross, I know, but it sure beats using a rumpled up tissue that you've already used a gazillion times and is covered with dry snot. Now, that's gross. (If you do use old tissues please throw them away at some point. Nobody, and I mean nobody, likes to pick up used snot rags.) 2. Being congested- When your nose is so clogged up you are forced to breathe totally through your mouth and end up with a severe case of cotton mouth. Or, my personal favorite, that wet spot left on your pillow when you have drooled out the side of your mouth all night. Another thing about being congested is tat it can ake communication bery difficult. B's become D's and P's become V's and so forth and so on. Trying to have a conversation with someone is nearly impossible. The following conversation took place when I tried to make a Dr's appointment to get some relief from my current head cold: Voice: Thank you for calling Medical Associates, for the appointment desk please press one. Me: Bleep Another voice: Appointment desk, may I help you? Me: 'ello, I meed to nake a bointment, flease. Voice: I'm sorry, can you please repeat that? Me: I need to make an abbointment. I gotta 'ead colb. Voice: Oh, it sounds like you have a head cold. What's your name and which doctor do you need to see? Me: I meed to see Br. Ricci and my last mame is Valmer. Voice: I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name. Me: Balmer! Voice: Let me look that up. I'm sorry, did you say Dalmer? Me: No! I'm not a serial killer. Falmer. Voice: I'm terribly sorry. Could you spell it for me? Me: V-A-L-M-E-R, Valmer! Voice: I'm sorry. I'm not finding anything for V-a-l-m-e-r. Are you a new patient? Me: No. 'old on a second. And with that I put one finger to the side of my nose and blew as hard as I could. "It's Palmer," I said. "P-a-l-m-e-r"