14 Stages of Developing the Malaise & How to Combat None of Them
But first of all, how do we attract this most alluring of possible mates?
- Work non-stop for an extended period of time.
- Make sure you take a combination of underground transport, where the air-shafts and sudden bursts of icy drafts send shivers down your spine.
- Take your coat off as soon as you enter the stuffy, crowded, germ-infested carriage.
- Work in a place which has air-conditioning so that getting used to an artificially induced cold in late October will make your system work overtime.
- Ignore any signs your body sends out to slow down, cause really, it isn’t that bad.
- Every time you’ve slept you will feel better until later when you don’t.
- Take paracetamol and adopt the placebo-thinking that this will take care of your bodily malfunctions.
- Prove to yourself that you are a hero and stronger than you think by going to work anyway. Then watch yourself falter.
What Not To Do Once the Amour Fou Has Overtaken Your Body, Mind and Soul:
- Don’t walk into a 24-hour-Tesco without pharmacy with your hat pulled down halfyour face at 11 pm Friday night when the cashier is counting a stash of cash. Because by that time the throat pain is so bad that you croak at him in the hope of receiving pain killers in exchange, or any pill really.
Don’t do it, because:
a) His suspicious face will tell you that you are a drug addict looking for whatever drug you can get hold of.
b) His suspicious face will tell you that you are a drug addict so desperate that you will jump him and wrangle his daily takings from him.
c) This particular Tesco doesn’t actually have a pharmacy.
So you go to the next corner shop where you get sold Strepsils which, when you open the pack, you find one already missing.
Alas, a Jules & Jim style menage a trois is not possible. However strong the various attractions are, you need to boil it down to two. In flu-terms: You can’t buy Paracetamol and Lemsip and Ibuprofen at the same time.
10. The lady at the till at Sainsbury’s was adamant about this apparent pharmaceutical rule to protect over-eager citizens from themselves and from getting better. To make sure I didn’t grab the lot and ran off with it (like I was planning to do) she actually held them firmly in her hand until I had made up my mind which one my body could do without.
11. It’s advisable to try all the shamanic remedies cantankerous grandmothers have revealed on their deathbeds to various friends over the years (i.e. spiking an onion with cloves and let it boil for 20 mins in water, then drink it). However, don’t desperately eat raw garlic and onions the night before you see your doctor to check your throat infection, because all her sympathies of seeing you in this sorry state will vanish instantly.
12. Paracetamol is pointless as it doesn’t take care of inflammation. It’s Ibuprofen you need when things get hairy. Even when it makes you nauseous and brings back up the food you just had. If you didn’t have any food, don’t worry, because it will bring up non-food related things instead.
13. Get at least 12 rolls of nose-friendly toilet paper. You will need it. Repeatedly. All the time. So much so that unless you make a collection at least twice a day your floor will resemble heaven – strewn with mucus-filled bits of cloudy white. If you run out, like I did, releasing your nose into t-shirts and tea towels is just not the same.
14. Make a brave face (while your nose is running) when your GP tells you that in case the influenzial and highly dysfunctional love-story does develop into tonsillitis (which I will know when my tonsils have swollen to such an extent that breathing becomes impossible and saliva can’t be swallowed but will instead drool from my mouth) I should find the nearest hospital and enter A&E.
Sadly, this would also mean the end of the tumultuous affair.