On my social media feeds, this proved the best way to show how bad my sneezing got from time to time:
My head alternated between feeling taken violently off by the next sneeze to getting stuffed so full of metaphorical cotton balls, I had to lay down. One of the Woke Comedy Collective members recommended hot water, lime, and honey. I had two of three with no lime, and she suggested cinnamon. I did a variation with tea, added some cinnamon and, precisely as she predicted, BOOM! I do have familiar things like Otravin nose spray and vitamin C. Alternative or conventional, if a person doesn’t stay home and rest, nothing works. I felt fortunate to work at a place with paid sick days. For many it’s not about proving toughness, it’s the difference between rent and food or none at all.
I had already overdrawn my reserves before the 25th, and that day saw me deliver one last session to the Youth Recreation Worker students at the downtown campus. Let me back up a bit. I had an opportunity to go back to the Notre Dame Campus, and I took it. I felt like things plateaued and library work, at least for me, meant more than a comfortable living. Finally, I put into place an approach done by my colleague downtown involving finding an available lab on campus to book a library session. More hands-on, less me yapping, and gave the students a chance to address things they will encounter in their assignment, while also reminding them this session is not ‘one and done.’ After this session, after I returned to Notre Dame, everyone could hear in my voice I was done. Except me. Of course, I would deny, deny, deny.
Until Friday morning, my voice a croaking, and my head feeling like a ten-tonne weight. At least I didn’t have a high fever. (Always find the bright side of things, I say.) I had the energy to watch Deep Space Nine on Netflix and listen to Oprah’s Supersoul Sunday podcast. Typing away on my laptop means feel much better, except I am out of cinnamon.