The consummate survivor
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I have another cold, or rather I have the remnants of one. It's lingering now in its 'not quite dead' phase and making the most of the opportunity. For the last week I would have been able to fill a tissue on command, should such a command have been issued (it wasn't, thankfully). I'm convinced there's a rule somewhere whereby you're only allowed to expel so much biological material from your body at any one time before being obliged to name it and send it to school. I must have passed that.
I don't like colds. I don't think anybody does. Feeling the first symptoms kick in is like realising you've been entered into a death match with an invincible opponent. It's inevitable what's going to happen next and, regardless of whether you're a Nobel prize-winning microbiologist or a Sun reader, there's nothing you can do about it. And you have absolutely no say in the matter. What's coming is likely to be unpleasant. You'll just have to endure it.
Colds are the consummate survivor. Rather than being any one single virus, any given cold is normally a combination of lots of them. There are hundreds of different types of virus that can cause a cold and they continuously mutate, making it impossible to ever become immune to them. Even if you get over one, there are dozens more lining up to take its place. It's a wonder we're ever well at all.
Unlike something such as chicken pox, which for most people is a onetime only affair, the common cold is only gone for as long as it takes the next variant to do the rounds. Chicken pox is quite happy to admit defeat once it's had its way with you. A cold, however, will bide its time before having another go. There's no sure fire way to avoid them, just as there's no magic cure that will get rid of them. Colds are the 'in-laws' of the virus community.
My cold is at a stage where I still can't afford to be more than half a dozen paces from a decent tissue. And, frankly, having any paces involved isn't a great idea. Thankfully, it's passed the leaky urgency of a week ago. Then, proximity to the tissues was equalled in importance by their quantity. My nose now looks like it's been dragged across various grades of sandpaper, but it's getting better.
I'm through the worst of it. I imagine whatever is left will have gone before the weekend is out. Hopefully I've had my last cold this winter. I've already used my normal quota for the whole year in just the last couple of months, so with any luck I'll have built up a decent immunity to the current strains while fighting them off. But I'm not naive enough to think I'm in the clear now. I know that some variety will return eventually and wreak havoc. I just hope it's not any time soon. If for no other reason, I've nearly run out of tissue.