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How to Survive Cold and Flu Season

I HAB A CODE.

I took some cold medicine, but it’s taking a while to kick in, and until it does I’m sounding a little like Elmer Fudd on Xanax.

Of course, even then, my medicine will only help my symptoms. It won’t really cure me. This is because they say there’s no cure for the common cold.

My friend Beth discovered this the hard way. For the past year, Beth has been saving pennies for a cruise. A big deal, this cruise—everyone in her family was going, including grandparents, cousins, and kids. Two weeks before she was supposed to sail into the best vacation of her life, Beth showed up on my doorstep waving two bags from the pharmacy down the street.

Seems she had visited her family doctor and obtained prescriptions for every ailment known to womankind. She had pills for bladder infections. Patches for motion sickness. Birth control pills to postpone her period. These were mostly preventative measures. Beth wanted to board the boat prepared for every conceivable malady. She was adamant that nothing—no virus, bug, or menses—would interfere with this vacation of a lifetime.

Two days before her trip, Beth came down with the grandmother of all colds. Her postnasal drip was so bad, she didn’t need an antihistamine, she needed a plumber. If you didn’t get any presents delivered to your house this Christmas, it’s because Rudolph took one look at Beth’s nose and filed for unemployment.

Nothing in Beth’s bag of pharmaceutical tricks could help. Rest and time proved the only remedy. Beth went on her cruise anyway. It didn’t help that when the ship sailed into some fog, the captain said the horn was on the blink and asked Beth to blow her nose instead.

This was a month ago. Now Beth is sick with something else. I think the doctor said whooping cough. The funny thing is that Beth’s a nurse. I told her she needs to quit bringing her work home with her.

I also showed up at her home with a little something to make her feel better.

If I were Martha Stewart, it would have been homemade chicken noodle soup or a casserole. But I’m not, and so the thing I brought was a half-gallon tub of ice cream. Cold hands, warm sentiments. Beth understood.

Colds are equal opportunity ailments. They don’t discriminate. Everybody falls prey, even the folks who are supposed to take care of the rest of us when we get sick. I know it’s disconcerting when it happens—I mean, I get a little worried when the doctors and nurses around me are sicker than I am—but there’s only one thing to do when it happens.

Don’t gawk or point a finger. Instead, pitch in with some caregiving of your own.

The truth is, whether we’re talking germ warfare, emotional valleys, or spiritual struggles, folks who minister aren’t immune. Sometimes they fall under attack. Sometimes they need an encouraging word, some wise instruction, a healing touch, and time to recoup just like the rest of us.

Know someone under attack? Someone you thought was invincible? Don’t gawk. Instead, pray. Send an encouraging card or e-mail. Make a phone call. Lend an ear. Provide a shoulder. Offer a hand. Provide a Kleenex. Give a hug. Bake a casserole. Babysit her kids. Show up with a gift that shows you understand and that you care.

A carton of Rocky Road and two spoons is a nice place to start.