|Posted by Karen M. Wyatt on March 6, 2012 at 7:00 AM|
I have been battling a powerful respiratory infection for the past week and thought I would share this letter I wrote to the virus that is attacking me.
I know you are celebrating right now because you think you have won this battle we have been waging. True I did spend an entire day on the couch watching reruns of The Dog Whisperer, and yes I didn't shower for a few days.
But I am onto you. I know all about the mucous parties you've been having in my frontal sinuses with your slimy friends, carousing through all hours of the night, blocking my airflow. I know you're trying to infiltrate my lungs and establish new colonies there, too. But frankly, I think you've spread yourself a little ... thin ... so to speak. I think your days are numbered because no matter what you do to me it just makes me stronger. I'm not afraid of you.
I have rediscovered echinacea tea and hot water with lemon juice and honey. They're on my team now and they know how to handle a two-bit hustling virus such as yourself. Along with a little Advil and 5 boxes of Kleenex, I have everything I need to stand up to the likes of you.
And you know what else? I have mental toughness like you've never seen before. I don't fall apart just because I can't breathe through my nose. And from all those episodes of Dog Whisperer I know how to be a strong pack leader. You really don't want to mess with me.
So here's the deal. If you just pack up your things and leave quietly tonight, we can call it even. I won't send my pitbull white blood cells after you and you can keep your dignity. It's the smart thing to do - trust me. I'm a doctor.