Science vs. The Underworld

While I've been sick for the last 5 or 6 days, I haven't mentioned it because I was in denial. I have this process I follow when I'm sick that entails lots of fruit (vitamin C), lots of water (flush out the system), and lots of denial (mind over body). Once the final stage of a cold sets in, and by cold I mean full on bronchial infection that lays in my chest for what seems like forever sucking away my will to live, the first two parts of the process have done all they can for me and the third part is a physical impossibility. Today is day one of that stage. The "coughing up demons" stage.

We've all been there: spent the last few days taking it easy and getting plenty of rest, gagging down the not-even-remotely-close-to-cherry-flavored NyQuil every 4 to 6 hours, taking hot showers in a feeble attempt at steaming your sinuses clear, digging through the drawers in search of those vitamin C tablets/echinacea drops/lemon herbal tea bags you bought the last time you were sick. And you haven't been feeling all that bad. Mostly just tired and a little sniffly. The worst is usually in the morning after every last bit of liquid in your head has spent the whole night draining into your chest and congealing, but the first few days, you cough a little and nothing happens. So, you think you're starting to feel better. Too bad you're wrong.

About a week into a good serious cold, you wake up in the middle of the night unable to breathe and have a nasty coughing fit. The tossing and turning ensues and you realize that all the denial in the world isn't going to change the fact that something evil has crawled down your throat and taken up residence in your chest. Being the territorial type, this is unacceptable. After spending the last week deep in denial, the reality of your situation comes as quite a shock and your body has a violent physical reaction for the next few days. It's mission? Take back your lungs and eject all trespassers! You thought you were sick and tired last week? Ha. You hadn't even begun to fight...

Strange but true, the variety of demons that look for empty chest cavities to live in are the quiet middle-aged sort. They mostly keep to themselves, read Nietzche, listen to Wagner and mind their own business. They don't like alcohol, loud noise or bathing and they especially hate karaoke. Knowing all of this is crucial if you want them to move on in a timely fashion. So, the plan should go as follows:

1. Keep taking the NyQuil. There's enough alcohol in that stuff to knock you out, so you can be sure the demons aren't going to be happy.
2. Keep drinking a ton of water. It's not important which exit they use, as long as they leave, right?
3. Finally, throw on The B-52's album, Cosmic Thing and sing along to "Love Shack." I know your voice is really raspy and doesn't actually come out half the time when you're sick, but belt it out as best you can. Between the rattling chest, the noise, and the severe coughing this activity is sure to produce, the demons will take the hint and pack up their things.

As with any major move, it usually takes a few days to get everything out and make sure the place is clean, so don't be surprised if the demons take their time packing up and saying goodbye. This process is especially unpleasant for the people around you and maybe a little embarassing for you (the demons did choose you, after all), so if you can get the moving done when you're alone, that tends to work out best for everyone.

So, I'm off to start the demon relocation process... NyQuil, check. Water, check. B-52's, check. Roomies out for the day, check. Hot shower, here I come.