The Boomer In Autumn

The first week of the Boomer’s cold is spent in a blur of coughing, headaches, sinus pain, sleeplessness and nose blowing. He has learned that things like pain killers, cough syrups and sinus medications do not mean squat during this week, and that he simply has to suffer though this.

The only things the Boomer can do comfortably are to sit in his La-Zee-Boy recliner and watch TV, or sit at his desk and put down any thoughts that come to him. These are mostly fragments, confused and incoherent, due to the viral invasion in his head. But he does it anyway, knowing he can sort it all out later.

Finally, after a week or so has passed, he experiences real sleep, wakes up knowing that the worst over, and that he can now start applying medication to dry up his sinuses and relieve his coughing, because, at this point, these two things are closely related.

Slowly the Boomer comes around. Sleeps a bit more each night and is able to put down coherent thoughts, the first of which is an attempt to vent his anger at the tiny bug that invades his body at this time every freaking year.

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Next, he finally summons up the strength to check out his to do list, which has now grown long and looks quite daunting in his still weakened state.

But the Boomer presses on, and starts ticking things off one by one, careful not to over-extend, and open himself up to a re-lapse.

Finally, on or about day 14, the Boomer dresses, warmly, and heads out to do some yard work. He starts with blowing and bagging leaves off the driveway because that’s the least strenuous physical activity he can think of.

Next comes a short bike ride to test his lung capacity and stamina.

Finally he is back in the house, convinced that, despite his optimism, he still has a ways to go.

One would logically think that there would be a way to break this vicious cycle and somehow prevent this from happening every October.

And the Boomer has tried them all. Magical elixer recipes, thoughtfully provided by Facebook friends, all of whom swear it works for them, overpriced (and underperforming) cold prevention products. Massive doses of vitamin C and orange juice. You name it. All to no productive end.

Over the years, the Boomer has come to realize that this cold is more than just a virus that virtually disables him for a week or two, it is a curse. There simply is no other conclusion that makes sense.

While the Boomer is neither religious nor superstitious to any great degree, he has made peace with this curse. He does his best not to resist, but simply gives in to it, trying his best to keep his anger and frustration in check, in the hope the he that acceptance makes it easier thanresistance.

This is really the only delusion in which he indulges.

The Boomer is better now. Back to whatever passes for normal and he knows, if history is any indication, that he should be OK for at least another year.

But the looming spectre of late October is always with him , and try as he might he cannot recall ever having pissed off a Gypsy to that extent.

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