I have a head cold. Not the sniffles, not a little cough, a full-blown, Category 5, doozy of a cold. This viral juggernaut has pumped an estimated 60 gallons of goop into my poor, beleaguered noggin, a vessel with, at most, a 2-gallon capacity. To make matters worse, I sound like Darth Vader — and I’m a girl.
Illness is a nasty, unsettling business. With this particular affliction, blowing my nose causes a baleful creaking in my ear canals and nasal passages. But get this, I’m not the only one who hears it. Alert bystanders do, too. That’s not normal, is it? Never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.
I should probably mention I’m a hypochondriac, a card-carrying alarmist on a grand scale. In my world, a toe cramp isn’t a muscle spasm, it’s early stage polio. Hypochondria is nothing if not fatal. So, of course, this cold deposited me squarely on death’s doorstep, where I lingered precariously for days. It was touch and go, of course, and the prognosis was grave — in my mind, anyway.
I whiled away long, fearful hours by conjuring gruesome, morbid images of ERs and ICUs, oxygen tents and respirators, last rites. I scared myself silly with these ghoulish thoughts. Which, by no small coincidence, is how I came up with the idea for today’s post:Ways I Don’t Want To Die
1. Buried Alive
2. Sucked into a Jet Engine
3. Impaled on a Wrought Iron Fence
4. Choking on a Ham Sandwich in a Hotel Room
5. Tied to Train Tracks
6. Bungee Jumping Accident
7. Locked in a Freezer
8. Of Boredom
You know how I do want to die? ¹ Laughing at a joke my husband, Tom Hanks, told me. Someday in the distant future.
¹ In the interest of full disclosure, this post has been reincarnated. It’s actually a reblog from 2015 and I don’t have a cold. I have a lack of motivation, but I expect it to clear up without medical intervention.