Moms everywhere know that we usually dodge
contagions that hit the household—just long enough to nurse, wait on and
comfort everyone else back to health. Then, wham. The rest of the family
resumes their normal activities while Mom makes her own chicken soup. That’s
when my family treats me like I’m an alien, and all because I sound funny and look
ridiculous. Makes me crave revenge, Dragon-style.
For two weeks, I’ve been bragging about how this
particular cold virus somehow missed me. See what happens when you boast?
Suddenly, my nose is redder than Rudolph’s, and a giant box of cheap one-ply tissues
is following me around the house. Why oh why did I not splurge for the expensive
tissue? I can’t take any of those remedies like Nyquil, either. The next step
is to get some Vick’s Vapo-Rub and haul out the vaporizer. I’m sick and
definitely not happy.
I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life. I
was a sickly child and my mother worked outside the home, so I had no choice.
Other kids had pets like puppies and kitties and those little turtles that
always manage to escape and then die under the refrigerator. My pet? I had a
vaporizer I named The Dragon.
For what felt like years, Dragon sat in the corner
of my bedroom, hissing out its steam. In those days the steam was hot, too. I
had to be careful not to get too close or Dragon might erupt. Every winter,
when I stayed home from school with colds for weeks at a time, The Dragon tried
to help me quit being a mouth breather. To make my colds disappear faster, I’d
cram a wad of tissues up one nostril to force the other plugged one to
function. It didn’t always work, and then I’d gasp for breath. Dragon was so
reliable that it rained everyday in my room.
Now we have cold air humidifiers instead of those
hot, steam-belching vaporizers of old. I don’t know if my sickie bug will heal
any faster with cold steam, but just in case I saved The Dragon. Besides, the
smell of Vick’s will keep the rest of the family as far away as possible, until
somebody needs something.
After I make the chicken soup my family will probably
want to know why there’s no clean underwear. They’ll bang on the bedroom door
and repeat the word, “Mom” approximately 97 times. Then I’ll fire up The Dragon and walk out
with a wad of tissues shoved into my nostril. That’s the kind of revenge I’m
talking about.