Out-Foxing the Cough of Death

I hardly ever get sick anymore, but I’ve been really sick for the past week or so. What started as a general, 19th century-style feeling of malaise quickly escalated to Overall Crankiness and then turned a corner to Frightening Man Voice. Days later, I mostly feel fine, but I am still plagued by the raspiest voice ever and dread the nightly visit from the Cough of Death.

Haven't you always wanted to see a blurry photo of me, ill and buried beneath an ugly plaid blanket? You're welcome!

As soon as I hit the sheets at night, I spend solid hours gasping and choking and otherwise shredding up my lung tissues– tossing around bits of bronchi like a rabid puppy who has found its way into the toilet paper cupboard and is hell-bent on leaving no trace. (Who needs lungs, after all? Trachea are for wimps!) It’s one of those dry coughs, though. Nothing is coming up. Nothing is being expelled. There is no reward or satisfaction in this cough, even though mucous coming out of your inner organs is a dubious reward if I’ve ever heard of one. The cough is just empty. The Hollow Cough of Death.

A Google search for "Dry Cough" images helpfully turned up this guy (via buzzle.com)

Not to be outdone, diy-guys.com offered the mirror image of the same actor dude with a dry cough. Thank you, Google, for offering an image to suit every design profile! (I look better coughing up a lung when photographed from my left side, too.)

After a particularly treacherous night spent suffering in bed (while Marty tossed and turned on the couch wearing earplugs to drown out my coughing fit cacophony), I finally broke down and made a doctor’s appointment. My regular doctor (aka Personal Jesus) was away, much to my dismay, so I had to settle for his lowly-but-still-medically-certified assistant. A brief consultation about my symptoms and medical history led this assistant to conclude that:

1. I’m not dying!

2. It’s not pneumonia!

3. My cough is viral-based and does not require antibiotics!

4. My cough might persist for another 4-6 weeks…. say wha’??

I was basically told to buy me some cough syrup and prepare to deal with my sleep-deprived self for another month or so. Aha. But, Mr. Smarty Pants? 1. I hate cough syrup! A lot! 2. I have a better idea! I’m going to beat this bronchitis at its own game and not sleep at all for 4-6 weeks!

My brilliant plan for beating bronchitis is to catch up on all the movies and TV shows I’ve ever wanted to watch but have missed. My head will not hit the sheets or otherwise invite the Cough of Death back in! I will win at Netflix-using/Excessive sleep deprivation, and I will finally be able to participate fully in dated pop culture references like “Hasta la vista, baby” and “No one puts Baby in a corner!” My life will be so great!

My coughing seems to start as soon as I lie down, so I will devise an elaborate system of pillows (and pulleys?) to keep myself upright, even when I feel like nodding off or otherwise resting. But I will not sleep– oh no, not me! The Cough of Death will have no more opportunities to overtake me! I’m sure princesses and geishas before me have discovered ways to stay upright, fancy hair undisturbed, overnight. (So what if my own hair is greasy and painfully neglected?) I will be like a horse! Or a pillow-surrounded, upright non-sleeper! Take that, bronchitis!

In all seriousness, I’m usually back at the gym within 3-4 days of being sick, so this bronchitis has overstayed its welcome by a factor of two already. I really do need to be better by early next week, too, because Marty and I have been invited to do something awesome and exclusive then. This Awesome Something paradoxically involves being outside, cold, and possibly wet for an extended period of time, so my immune system needs to be at full capacity. Can you keep your fingers crossed for me, dear readers? (Worst case scenario: does anybody have a spare lung I can borrow?) I’ll be back!