Amid the most prolonged illness I’ve ever personally experienced, I enjoyed a solid 12 hours of uninterrupted bliss on March 29, courtesy of my new best friend, NyQuil.
Sure, chest and sinus congestion, no matter how nasty, isn’t exactly the stuff of medical legend. Nothing I’ve contracted is going to be featured in the Journal of the American Medical Association. Dr. Doug never dramatically treated a young boy for excessive phlegm on “E.R.”
So yes, I’ve been a lucky man — never broken a bone, never held home from school for anything worse than chicken pox, never been hospitalized. (Knock on wood.) Which means my perspective on what it’s like to be truly miserable is completely screwy.
But let’s get back to NyQuil. My friend.
Now, I didn’t go to the hard stuff right away. In denial of my illness, I did nothing initially. After a couple of days, I began taking cough drops. Three bags of ’em didn’t help, so I went to the Sudafed, but that stuff just made me dopey as all get out. From there I dropped down a gear to just the expectorant Mucinex, mostly because the little green mucous monsters in the commercials are really, really funny.
Planning to head back to work on the 29th, I decided that a clear head was more important than a sound body, so I went cold-turkey, medication-wise. That didn’t help. My first day back at The Land was a disaster for me, and not exactly pleasant for my co-workers.
I headed home early, feeling worse than ever. Desperate for relief, I dug out the NyQuil from the back of the medicine cabinet, took the recommended dosage and waited for its promised sweet release. It didn’t take long.
By about 2 p.m. I was out cold. (I’m told that later in the afternoon I had a phone conversation with my eldest daughter. So she claims, anyway.) The next thing I knew, it was 2 a.m. and I’d lurched awake in bed. The agony of cough and congestion had returned, but those 12 hours of sweet, ignorant bliss were an amazing respite.
I considered taking another dose right away, but knew I’d have no chance of making it back to work later that morning if I did. There was a paper to put out, and more co-workers to infect.
The next day I reluctantly made an appointment to see my doctor. I’ll let you know if the results get published in a medical journal.
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Tom Royer is assistant editor of The Land, and should know better than to attempt to write a “Land Minds” column in his current condition. He may be reached at troyer@thelandonline.com.
