Summer curse

There’s no good time to get sick, but there are times that are worse than others.

While our nation bakes under an extended heat wave, our family dedicated the final few days of our beach vacation to catching and spreading among ourselves a summer cold. Conditioned by the pandemic, we took Covid tests when we returned home, which all turned out to be negative. Then we all dealt with the virus in ways reflective of our personalities.

Carla, the original victim in our household, took medicine to treat her symptoms and rested the first few days back. Carlton laid out of rehearsals and medicated up. Harris never got sick because he had to come home early from vacation for work (he’s 18 going on 48), and I received no reports on how Barron and Meg coped, only that they, too, had symptoms.

I dealt with this cold in the way I have always handled illness, dating back to that time at CBF when I feverishly led a communications staff meeting shivering under a blanket or in the pre-pandemic times when I stepped off the elevator with a coughing fit at the USG and was immediately sent back home – I denied reality and went into the office. After sitting in meetings in close quarters for two days this week, half of my staff was out sick by Thursday. I even managed to infect our interim president, who was forced to work remotely the last half of the week.

When my head cold moved south into my chest and my symptoms included a cough, I wisely chose not to go into the office on Wednesday, but all told I spent about six hours on Zoom calls and Teams meetings. I did return on Thursday and Friday, but moved most of my meetings online and shook the dust off my Covid masks for a few in-person conversations.

Public service announcement: This is sick Lance. Don’t be like Lance.

The most common response I received this week from my coworkers and friends was both truthful and not comforting: “Summer colds are the worst.”

You’ll get no argument from me, but in my fevered state, I began to contemplate why that is. I think I narrowed it down to expectations.

When you are imagining yourself on vacation, you picture sun, sand, surf and fun. It feels worse to be stuck on the balcony watching other people frolick while you sniffle and cough.

When you plan your summer weekend, you may be mindful of pop-up thunderstorms and heat stroke warnings, but you inevitably include some activities. It’s disappointing when you have to let go of those plans because you feel terrible.

As I see it, there are two strategies to mitigate the cruel effects of a summer cold: first, lower your expectations. If you make no plans to do anything fun or go out of doors, you won’t be disappointed if you’re bed/couch ridden.

Second, you can carry on as if nothing at all is the matter and fill your mind with such delusions as “It’s not a fever, it’s the heat index,” or “My nose isn’t running, I’m just sweating out of my nostrils.”

As of today I’ve been dealing with the effects of this cold for a week. I am feeling much better and hopefully infecting far fewer people I come in contact with. Everyone I made sick said they didn’t blame me for it. They all said platitudes like, “it’s just something going around.” Yeah, going around me.

It’s been awhile since I’ve had a summer cold, and I’m sure that made this one feel worse. I am not eager to repeat it.

We’ve got one more short family getaway before the summer ends, so I’ve got another shot to do it right. Let’s hope the only thing we catch on that trip that’s going around is summer fun.