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Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Mucus dripping from your nose
Wheezy lungs sing like they're in a choir
And folks are feeling all their woes
Everybody knows a lemon and some honey-oh,
Help to make the meds taste right.
Tiny germs with their souls all aglow,
Will make it hard to sleep tonight.
We know that influenza's on its way;
Respiratory syncytial virus
For all to slay
And every mother's child is going to cry,
To know that temps do really know how to fly.
And so I'm offering this simple phrase,
To kids from one to ninety-two,
Although its been said many times, many ways,
It's cold and flu season, boo hoo..."
Oh cold and flu season, you gross and icky, mucus-filled extravaganza of joy. After a year of staving off the inevitable, I finally caught a cold.
Having a cold post-transplant means a barrage of questions from my medical team to make sure I don't have the flu (or a myriad of other fun viruses that can compromise my already fragile immune system). It means sorting out what over-the-counter drugs I can take with my existing medications to relieve the symptoms. It means more blood work. It also means a nose swab.
Now you'd think a veteran of 12 bone marrow biopsies would be totally ok with a gentle two second nose swab with a cotton tip. But no. A girl can only be tested for various ailments so many times before the sight of a mere cotton tip can make her weak at the knees and induce a mild panic attack.
Yesterday, I lost my shiz while a patient nurse tried to put a stick up each of my nostrils to swab my mucus. They never told me just how glamorous New York City could be at this time of year! Did I mention that as I demonstrated my delightful hacking cough the nurse requested a bit of sputum as a sample? GLAMOR I TELLS YOU.
For now, hold the roasted chestnuts - I have zero sense of taste or smell and won't enjoy them. If you need me, I'll be at home drinking copious amounts of lemon and honey tea, and hacking up a lung.
Happy flu season ya'll!
Having a cold post-transplant means a barrage of questions from my medical team to make sure I don't have the flu (or a myriad of other fun viruses that can compromise my already fragile immune system). It means sorting out what over-the-counter drugs I can take with my existing medications to relieve the symptoms. It means more blood work. It also means a nose swab.
Now you'd think a veteran of 12 bone marrow biopsies would be totally ok with a gentle two second nose swab with a cotton tip. But no. A girl can only be tested for various ailments so many times before the sight of a mere cotton tip can make her weak at the knees and induce a mild panic attack.
Yesterday, I lost my shiz while a patient nurse tried to put a stick up each of my nostrils to swab my mucus. They never told me just how glamorous New York City could be at this time of year! Did I mention that as I demonstrated my delightful hacking cough the nurse requested a bit of sputum as a sample? GLAMOR I TELLS YOU.
For now, hold the roasted chestnuts - I have zero sense of taste or smell and won't enjoy them. If you need me, I'll be at home drinking copious amounts of lemon and honey tea, and hacking up a lung.
Happy flu season ya'll!
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