KNOW WORRIES #14 - "My Last Will and Testament"

Sick as a dog

I have a cold. And I don’t mean to be dramatic, but I’m dying. My throat is itchy, my eyes are watery, my nose is runny, and I’m (somehow) also having hot flashes? I’m going through tissues like I’ve got the first 12 minutes of “Up” on repeat, and nothing tastes like anything anymore except for Dayquil, which tastes like I must have done some really questionable things in a previous life.

I just wanna put my whole fucking head in rice.

I want to cauterize every hole on my face just so they’ll stop leaking long enough for me to get ten minutes of sleep. It is so incredibly uncomfortable to do anything right now, and somehow, the only thing that’s worse is the misery of doing nothing. Because if I have to listen to myself make one more disgusting head-cold noise, I’m just gonna go ahead and get this whole thing (points to head) shellacked like a state fair grand prize pumpkin.

And the worst part is…it’s not even covid. It’s not even a spicy cold, it’s just a regular cold. A thing so unremarkable that it’s literally known as the “common” cold. That’s its name. So I can’t even post a picture of a positive test on Instagram and have myself a nice little five day staycation. Like, I still have to do stuff, only this time, my face is always kinda wet and sore for some reason. And that’s one of the very worst things that can happen to a face.

Look, all I’m saying is this is literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m never going to be okay again. I’ve asked my creator what I’ve done to deserve this, and I’ve heard nothing in the way of an answer, so I can only assume God himself is rightfully ashamed of the trials he’s put me through these last few days. I would fight him myself if I could, but his cowardice precludes it.

Okay, maybe I do mean to be dramatic.

But as an otherwise healthy adult human male, making a big deal about having a cold is my jam. Besides, I’ve kind of been doing it my whole life, so why stop now? Listen, if I have a cold then we all have a cold, okay? It’s been said that everyone’s fighting a battle you know nothing about. Well, I’m putting a stop to that right now. Now everybody knows about it. I feel like shit, and now you all can be extra nice to me. And not make me go to work. And ask me if I need some more water. And make me soup. And a grilled cheese. And then a peanut butter jelly. With no crusts. And tell me you’re not mad at me.

I’m a little needy right now, but that’s probably just the 5000mg of vitamin C talking. Could be the zinc too. Or maybe the off-brand cold medicine or the vapo-rub or the Theraflu or the elderberry extract or the echinacea or the turmeric pills or the lemon juice cleanse or the herbal tea. Look, I’m on a lot of different stuff right now. I even bought some snake wine from this guy parked behind CVS (I know what you’re thinking but he had a business card and everything), and now I can smell the future and I realized the seasons are all out of order, but that’s a topic for another column. I’m just saying, spring first, then winter, then you warm it up with summer, then you close strong with autumn and a Thanksgiving/New Year’s collab. Simple.

You know, maybe there are a few upsides to having a cold. I mean, the clairvoyance is nice. Some of these drugs are fun, and the snake wine had a nice bite to it (I’m so sorry). In all seriousness, it did have some good flavor up front but it just didn’t have any legs (truly). I’m just saying, at least you can still curl up and read a good book with a cold. At least you can still watch TV or a rent a movie or knit or write (ahem) or paint, as long as you don’t sneeze. It’s not ideal, but there are certainly worse ways to spend a day. And I know this because I once spent a whole afternoon on horseback following the world’s most flatulent Clydesdale through the California mountains. FYI, I tried to fight God that day too. Coward.

As a kid, having a cold was even kind of a weird little treat. It was like getting a glimpse at a completely different existence filled with game shows and soap operas and infomercials and old TV shows about superhero collies and talking horses and identical cousins (?). It was like being let in on all these secrets these old people have been keeping to themselves all these years. Like what do you mean The Price is Right and American Gladiators are on every day? And if you’re not in math class, you can just…watch them?! Huh.

It was a whole different world. Like stepping through the wardrobe to Narnia only the Jesus metaphors were less clunky, and I would never ever (probably) sell any of you out for a Turkish delight. Bring me a Reece’s and we’ll talk. But it was wild and wonderful world nonetheless, and they did treat me as something of a king. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but they did microwave me soup. And they did pity me, so that counts a little.

And isn’t that one of the secret little upsides of having a cold? The special treatment? The coddling? I think there’s a piece of all of us that likes to be taken care of, not matter how strongly we deny it. It feels good to be doted on, particularly by our parents or partners or friends (or whomever). And since life has, thus far, delivered me significantly fewer butlers than sitcoms had me believe were coming my way, I had to take what I could get.

That’s right, I was a bit of a latchkey kid. Now, I know that’s surprising considering my previous columns on my obsession with movies and hatred of the holidays and my habit of confiding in dogs, but it’s true. And I don’t consider that a pejorative, by the way. I consider it a fairly normal stage of growing up in a household (or households) where both your parents work/go to school/whatever. Once you’re old enough to be home by yourself, that’s just what happens when school is over several hours before the workday is. And do you know what? I liked it. Because leave me alone.

Like, I’m gangly and awkward and I don’t know how the world works and I’m dealing with some shit I don’t really understand and all I wanna do is cry and then fight and then cry and then play video games, so leave me alone. And don’t even get me started on how I was feeling back then. I don’t know, I was just an independent kid, and I didn’t really like being supervised, so I just learned to do most of it myself. I would hitchhike home from school, acid wash my own jeans, rewind all my own movie rentals, make myself three mixtapes, then hunt and cook my own dinner all before the first rerun of Murder She Wrote came on.

Okay, so none of that was true in the sense that it actually happened, but it feels true, and that’s really what matters. The point I’m trying to make is that even we, the feral latchkey children of the world, like being taken care of every once and a while. And sometimes, feeling a little under the weather made that happen without having to admit that we need it. And if you think it’s crazy that I had a hard time admitting to my parents that I needed affection, well then you’ve never met a teenager, I don’t know what to tell you.

But I’ve grown up since then, and so many things have changed over the last twenty (thirty) years. None of those things, of course, but I’m sure other things have.

I still secretly enjoy a sick day a little, and I still won’t let you know that. You’ll think I’m dying, because I will keep telling you that over and over. But I do enjoy it a bit. Because just like everybody else, I need a break every now and then. A break from life. From school. From myself. And more than that, I need permission to take that break. To drop out for a while. To take a deep breath. Just a day to veg out at home and really focus on the crushing weight of my newsfeed, you know? It’s the little things.

So, do I feel terrible? Absolutely. Is that completely cold-related? Almost certainly not. Existence is pain. But is my face wet? Yes. And am I hopped up on Dayquil and snake wine? You better believe it. So be nice to me. And bring me things. And make me soup. And let me be dramatic about all of it, because I deserve it. Because nobody has ever suffered like this before. Not once in the history of history.