To be sick is to be dysphoric. Nothing quite knocks one’s level of self-confidence down quite like being sick. For the past week or so, I’ve been dealing with what I have dubbed “the cold of my life.”

I’ve been sick before, obviously, but there’s something about having a cold that leaves me feeling more helpless than usual. You’re not sick enough to truly warrant any medical attention, drugs or care from others around you; yet you’re operating your life at (maybe) 75% its optimal rate.

I can’t shake this. I’ve been coughing non-stop for days, sniffling and sneezing, too. My co-workers cannot help but leer at me in that “whatever you’ve got going on over there, don’t you dare spread it,” kind of way. But I take my DayQuil, tough it out, and power through the day. Truth be told, I probably should stay home from work, but, again, a cold just seems like such a tiny thing to shut down my life for.

As the cough rages on, my throat becomes hoarse, making my voice low and raspy. Hearing my own voice is just adding insult to injury.

“Oh, you’re feeling physically ill, body? Here, let me throw in a side of vocally induced dysphoria to top you off.”
“You know, self, you can be a jerk sometimes.”
“I know. You’re quite welcome.”

Here’s to appreciating health when we have it.