Wednesday, September 4, 2019
Catching Cold :: Personal Narrative Health Essays
Catching Cold       I am afraid to sneeze around my mother.  I avoid coughing in front of her, even if just to prevent a wayward piece of spinach from wiggling down the wrong tube.  I never blow my nose in her presence or scratch any part of my body for more than a few seconds.  No, my mother does not have an unusually weak immune system.  Nor is she very elderly or recovering from a chronic illness.  In fact, my mom is one of the healthiest people I know.  Itââ¬â¢s not her own health that sheââ¬â¢s paranoid about.  Itââ¬â¢s mine.    On one particularly cold day about fifteen years ago, my mom laid out five shirts on my bed: a camisole, a short sleeve shirt, a turtleneck, a long sleeve shirt, and a sweater.  After a few minutes of wrestling the clothes over my four-year-old body, she said, ââ¬Å"There, now you wonââ¬â¢t get frostbitten,â⬠ and with a satisfied smile patted my marshmallow-like exterior off to kindergarten.  Thirty minutes later, as I silently sweated my way through making a Santa Claus out of red construction paper and white cotton balls, my teacher exclaimed,    ââ¬Å"Itââ¬â¢s cold in here! How many of you feel cold right now?â⬠  Small hands shot up around the room and Miss Johnson agreed, ââ¬Å"It certainly is!  Now I wish I had worn more layers.  When it is very cold outside, you can stay warm by adding extra layers of clothing.  Today I am only wearing two layers,â⬠ she told us, pulling the edge of her white blouse out from under her red cardigan sweater.  ââ¬Å"Is anyone wearing three layers today?â⬠  A brief moment of contemplation and counting followed.  A few of my classmates raised their hands, beaming as Miss Johnson smiled at them each in turn, saying, ââ¬Å"That is very smart of you.  You must be very warm right now!â⬠      I was wearing more than three layers.  I quietly re-counted my shirts under the table.  All of a sudden, Thomas, an annoying bully of a boy who seemed to pay more attention to my affairs than his own, shot up from his seat.  ââ¬Å"Deborahââ¬â¢s wearing five layers, Miss Johnson,â⬠ he crowed, ââ¬Å"I saw her counting them.â⬠  I looked down at the ground, trying to avoid the laughter and teasing of my classmates.  					    
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