This week Eli was sick with a cold. On Thursday, one of my tutors apologized for bringing her sickness to work. On Friday, one of my colleagues brought along her obviously sick child to a staff meeting.
Such occurrences don’t bother me. I figure that my persistent exposure to germs are an occupational hazard of both parenting and teaching. I don’t use hand sanitizer. I abide by the five-second rule and sometimes eat things that have fallen on the floor. I do not fear touching doorknobs. I’ll drink out of another person’s water glass, if offered. You can drink out of mine, if you like.
This morning I woke with a cough, a deep chest one. Right now I have two part-time jobs that together add up to more than one, and fatigue is my new tag-along. My guard is down. The palace has been invaded.
It might be too late, but I’ll try anything. Eli and my mother are recommending AirBorne, a packet of so-called immunity boosters in a fizzing tablet. Normally I eschew such remedies, preferring chemicals and a nap.
This item has a homey list of ingredients, however, which sound as though they were grown in someone’s yard: lonicera, forsythia, ginger, schizonepeta (what’s this?), echinacea, and other herbal names. It looks and tastes like Alka-Seltzer. L’chaim, everybody.