COLUMN: Leaking and oozing

From Jorie Green's "Sauce on the Side," Fall '96 From Jorie Green's "Sauce on the Side," Fall '96I'm not exactly, as feminists would say, "in touch with my body." I stumbled into a Biology 8 lecture at the beginning of the semester only to discover that I, like the rest of my sex, am equipped with more than one Fallopian tube. And never mind that RNA/DNA stuff -- I thought that was the abbreviated name of some sort of rare venereal disease. (How bad is it, Jorie?) It's so bad that when I called my best friend the other day, she squealed into the receiver, "Oh my god! Is this James Earl Jones?" It's so bad that on Valentine's Day my nostrils were redder than the sweetest red rose, and the skin on my lips learned the hard way that "breakin' up is hard to do." And it's so bad that if Cupid had shot an arrow at me that night, I probably wouldn't have known, since all of the pain killers and mucus inhibitors I had taken miraculously transformed any of my feelings of discomfort into a vague, uniform unpleasantness that left a dull ringing in my ears and a taste like curdling cheese in my mouth. For this reason, when my boyfriend -- with his eyes glowing warmly -- asked me by sweet candlelight if I would be his Valentine, I could only respond by coughing up violently into a tissue and replying, "Is it just me, or is the smoke detector at the house down the street going off? Or is that your telephone?" Of course, those were the old days of Regular Formula Co-Advil. That was before last Sunday, when I met an antihistamine junkie in the back of CVS who hooked me up with the courage to get tough on phlegm and say no to post-nasal drip. "Go for the goods," he hissed, taking from the interior pocket of his dirty trenchcoat a pamphlet of beautiful, pink-nostriled models participating in such long-forgotten acts of pleasure as smelling flowers and expensive men's cologne. "Go for Aisle 11." And now that my new Maximum Strength Severe Cold Formula Sudafed is kicking in, paralyzing my face from the eyebrows down but having the most enjoyably liberating effect on my brain (talk about a wonder drug!), I find myself haunted by regrets. Like, why did I take Abnormal Psychology instead of that Biology class for my science general requirement? If I'd taken Bio, then I might understand what my body is doing right now, instead of having useless information about what a certain group of people (who will hopefully remain strangers) imagines it is doing. And who knows -- maybe they're right, and all of this phlegm will transform me into a giant, man-eating monster. They would know. They probably took Biology. As you might be able to tell, I am becoming more and more desperate for solid information as my condition worsens. I looked up "cold" in my dictionary and it told me to see "no cure." So if any of you readers can supply me with answers to my questions, I will be happy to supply you with a reward -- but I should warn you, these questions are tough. 1. Why did the cold pick me? For years, I've blessed everyone who has sneezed in my earshot, shared my Tylenol and tissues and even offered home-cooked chicken soup to complete strangers with sinus headaches. So why not give the cold to someone else, someone who didn't play by the rules, and maybe wiped their nose on their sleeve and then lent their shirt out without washing it? It just doesn't seem fair. 2. Who, specifically, gave me my cold? I know for certain that neither my boyfriend nor my roommate could have possibly wanted to pass their germs my way, so who ran interference? Was it an evil fairy? Or maybe RNA/DNA? 3. Exactly how many sick people did it take to infect me? Did I become sick because some guy sneezed on me on the subway, or did it take the mating of my roommate's and my boyfriend's germs to contaminate my body? And if so, does that mean they're having some sort of a bacterial affair? 4. Is there an unlimited supply of mucus in one's nose? Does it do any good to keep blowing and blowing, or do I face a bottomless well? 5. Why is this cold so much worse than any other cold I've ever had in my life? Does it have anything to do with the ozone layer? 6. Are there support groups for people with severe colds, or would the gathering of such an organization of contaminated people be considered a threat to the public health? And if that is the case, then have there been any proposals on the floor of Congress for funding a flu-inflected persons' version of a leprosy colony, or would federal intervention into this national medical crisis be considered "too much big government?" And what is Steve Forbes' stance on this issue? 7. What is the correct etiquette for responding to an atheist's sneeze? If "God bless you" is considered offensive, should one instead employ the German "gezundheit" or the French "E tes suives?" Or is it best in this situation to stick with the simple but elegant, "Have a nice day?" If you have the answers to any of these questions, please send them and five Daily Pennsylvanian proofs-of-purchase to my home address. In return, you may receive any of the following prizes: seven empty Puffs Plus boxes, perfect for storage or gardening purposes, or The Phlegm Sound Collection, a never-before-released recording of me coughing along to popular country/western, soft rock and rap tunes. But be sure to act quickly. If I don't get some response soon, I may be forced to take drastic measures. I may have to swallow my pride -- and anything else lingering in my throat -- and take my troubles to Student Health.

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