.....Advertisement.....
.....Advertisement.....

ONDBEAT Seasonal sickness is a cruddy thing to deal with

It started with a twinge, then the tickle of a noxious feather at the back of my throat.

Like most people, I survived Thanksgiving without overdosing on turkey or hanging out with germy people. So I thought.

But promptly on the following back-to-work Monday, everything started to change.

I tried chasing the obnoxious thing with assorted liquids and Campbell’s Homestyle Chicken Noodle soup to no avail.

One time, my mama swore it only took a swig of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey, which is proudly mashed in a dry county in our home state, for her to force a foreboding microbe into oblivion.

But a few years ago I wasn’t as fortunate when I tried substituting mom’s medicinal advice with a cheap(er) bottle of something called “Mr. Boston’s Rock & Rye,” which must have come from the dollar distillery and only seemed to make things worse.

As the week progressed and I didn’t, by the following Monday some of my co-workers started less-than-subtly covering their faces when I was around. They weren’t sorry to see Typhoid Mary ousted from the workplace island for the rest of the week.

I got even on Tuesday by couch-lounging at home and visiting doc-in-a-box, who called in three prescriptions and told me the “thing” would take four weeks. Or did he say it would last “for weeks”? This illness had affected my ears.

It wasn’t the flu. It was the “crud.” I had the “cruddy crud,” as Thomas Drugs pharmacist Brad Carter called it.

He ought to know, since he’s the one who invented Carolina Crud Crusher, which I’d heard of but forgotten about since most years I haven’t gotten the crud.

Telecommuting and phoning safely from home, I treated interviewees to the usual gravelly tone my voice takes on whenever a virus is holding us hostage.

“You sound awful,” they said.

“You need that Carolina Crud,” one of them advised.

Since I was stuck at home with nothing better to do, I googled it. She meant Carolina Crud Crusher.

I didn’t need the crud. I needed its crusher, I corrected her.

She swore by it and said I would, too.

But I was already on three drugs and didn’t think doc-in-a-box would approve supplementing the already strong cough medicine and pills he’d prescribed, the ones that may (and did) cause drowsiness, which was another good reason to stay at home.

I’ll try it next time, I vowed, secretly hoping there won’t be a next time and that I never get the crud again.

 

Laura Lewis is a staff writer at the Beacon. Reach her at 754-6890 or llewis@brunswickbeacon.com.