Happy -- achoo! -- holidays

Dear friends:

I’d like to thank all of you who recently shared your germs and viruses with me. Nothing says "special friendship" like a dripping nose.

Thanksgiving weekend marks the traditional start of the annual holiday blitz of shopping and parties and cockles-warming. 'Tis the season when we work-at-home types actually leave the house and interact with other humans, and we can count on contracting miserable illnesses while we're out there.

(The word "holidays" comes from the Greek holidakos, which translates to "cold and flu season." People have known since ancient times that holiday gatherings were the best places to pick up rampaging colds.)

Home-office workers are extra-susceptible to these viral onslaughts. We’re not out there in the workaday world, regularly exposed to the latest bugs, so our immunity is suppressed. Viruses take one look at our pasty indoor faces and virgin nasal passages, and you can almost hear their evil little laughs: Heh-heh-heh.

Then, whammo, they attack.

We victims are like small children who haven’t yet been exposed to the world’s germs and viruses. This is why smart parents urge their offspring to roll in the dirt and make mud pies and lick the dog. Children need to collect all the resulting immunities. We adults lose our accumulated immunities if we never go out in the world and get a booster shot of germs.

(When I was growing up in the South, we called such people “shut-ins.” They were too elderly and/or infirm to leave their homes, and they always rated a special place in prayers. I remember, as a child, being very curious about the shut-ins. I couldn’t understand why people didn’t just go to the shut-ins' homes and let them out. Why were they locked up anyway? I was an odd child.)

Most of the year, we shut-ins get our viruses directly from our own children. Every weekday, the kids go to school, where viruses hang out in the hallways like juvenile delinquents, picking their teeth and waiting for a ride. Our children embrace these miscreants and bring them home, where they run amok among the household adults.

Here’s the unfair part: The kids barely get sick, but we parents will be laid low. My teen-age son brings home some dread disease, and he’ll have the sniffles for a day or two, maybe sleep an extra hour, and he’s fine. The same virus hits my puny immune system, and I’m groaning in a bed for a week.

This time of year, though, we hermits acquire our viruses first-hand. We go to holiday parties and family gatherings, and we shake hands and kiss cheeks and dole out big hugs. During these moments of unguarded human contact, the viruses leap over onto us and sprint right up our noses.

If you’re like me, you’ll recover from your Thanksgiving cold just in time to pick up a fresh batch of viruses at Christmas. Colds and flu truly are the "gifts that keep on giving."

So thanks again, friends, for sharing with me. I hope to recover in time to see you at the New Year’s party.

You might want to skip that midnight kiss.

Losing my grip

How come when I'm having back problems, and it hurts to bend over, I spend all day dropping stuff? Seems like all I do is creak over and pick up whatever gravity has snatched from my grasp. Is it just a matter of me noticing it more? Do I go around picking up stuff all day long when my back isn't hurting? No wonder I have back problems.

Prescription paradox

When you have a cold, the advice always is to get lots of rest and drink lots of liquids. Don't those two things cancel each other out? If I drink lots of liquids, I get no rest because I need the bathroom every hour or two.

Which explains why I'm blogging at 4 a.m.

Cough, wheeze, whine.

Sneezing off the pounds

Hello, friends. Today, I bring you great news about an AMAZING NEW DIET plan that could allow you to lose five pounds in a single week!

I know you've heard this sort of thing before. We're all deluged by advertisements touting the latest diet fads and spouting incredible results that only the most gullible and desperate dieters would ever believe. But my diet plan is different because it REALLY WORKS!

In only one week, with virtually no exercise, you can drop unwanted pounds and get back into those jeans that have been too tight for the past six months. You can look trimmer and feel better about yourself. You can amaze your friends and family.

I'm a perfect example of how this new diet plan works. In only one week, I lost five whole pounds. I had to cinch up my favorite belt by an entire hole! And, so far, I've kept it off!

How did I do it? I caught my first cold of the winter. After a week of misery, I got on the scales to find that the pounds had MAGICALLY DISAPPEARED.

That's right, friends. Without even trying, without breaking a sweat (other than those feverish, sheet-soaking night sweats), I dropped some of the excess weight that had been plaguing me for months. Now, whole new worlds (as well as whole sections of my existing wardrobe) have opened up to me. I feel like a new, if slightly weaker, man!

My amazing new Winter Cold Diet is so simple you won't even believe it. It's EASY! All you do is catch a passing virus. Then, for the next seven to 10 days, you'll find that you have NO APPETITE AT ALL! Even your favorite foods will hold no appeal for you. You'll find that everything, even sinfully rich chocolate and fattening holiday sweets, tastes like cardboard.

The Winter Cold Diet can be pursued in the privacy of your own home. No embarrassing weigh-ins in front of other dieters. No puffing at the gym in front of svelte young weightlifters who sneer at your decrepitude. In fact, you can do it without leaving your bed!

With the Winter Cold Diet, there are no special foods or drinks to purchase. All you'll want is water, and lots of it. Maybe some chicken soup. And lots of over-the-counter cold remedies to dry out your runny nose, calm your coughing fits and help you sleep around the clock.

Best of all, the Winter Cold Diet is ABSOLUTELY FREE! Nothing to buy now, nothing to buy later. No salesman will call.

You can pick up the Winter Cold Diet virus most everywhere AT NO CHARGE. There's plenty to go around. Co-workers will willingly share it with you. Perfect strangers in public places will gladly sneeze some of the virus right over to you. Heck, your children have probably brought the virus home from school. It's likely in their rooms RIGHT NOW!

Granted, the Winter Cold Diet does have certain side effects. During the diet, you'll feel really rotten -- headaches, dehydration, body aches, congestion, sore throat, coughing, etc. You'll go through a lot of Kleenex. All your hacking and spewing will disgust your loved ones. You won't accomplish anything, except a lot of excess sleeping, and you'll likely miss work.

But hey, as any of us fatties will be quick to tell you, that all seems a small price to pay to LOSE FIVE POUNDS! In a WEEK! Whoo-hoo!

Try the amazing Winter Cold Diet today! Pick up a virus! As if you have any choice.

Bad news bearers

Of all the modern afflictions that plague today's parents -- sleeplessness, sass, televised violence, fast food, Eminem -- nothing's worse than the dreaded Call From School.

You parents know these calls -- when you answer the ringing phone and a disembodied voice on the other end identifies itself as being from your child's school. Is anything more instantly stomach-wrenching?

It's never good news. School officials don't call the parents to say little Johnny made the honor roll or that little Ruthie is an introspective, respectful scholar. No, they only call in cases of emergency or dire misbehavior.

Sad to say, but experienced parents know that the absolute best news that can come from such a call is that the child is slightly ill. Throwing up, or headachy, or running a mild fever. When it's the school nurse on the phone, we parents immediately assume broken limbs or random gunshots. When the nurse says little Johnny merely yarked all over his teacher, it comes as something of a relief.

Yes, the child's illness disrupts our workday and might even require a quick trip to the doctor, but at least there's nothing life-threatening. More importantly, calls from the nurse concern something that's completely out of the parents' control -- a virus, a germ, a freak accident on the seesaw.

We don't want our children to be sick, but we'll take that any day over the calls that report discipline problems. With bad behavior, there's always the implication that the parents are to blame.

Where did little Johnny learn such language? Why doesn't he do his homework? Why does he keep picking fights? Why does little Ruthie suffer temper tantrums? Why does she dress like a tramp? Is everything all right at home?

Teachers, counselors and administrators have the kids' best interests at heart, and most of them have more patience and understanding than your average saint. When things go wrong, there comes a point when they must simply throw up their hands and lob the problem back to the parents.

But the ever-present implication that the kids are not being reared properly only serves to dump a big shovelful of guilt on the parents.

(Granted, some parents need that wake-up call. There are certainly some homes where everything is not all right.)

But most of us parents are doing the best we can. We monitor the homework production and we turn off the TV and we try to get our wild-eyed children to eat something other than processed sugar. We lecture and scold and threaten.

For seven hours a day, however, the kids are out of our hands. They're in the wilds of school, being stalked by bullies and pressured by peers and exposed to bad influences. When the kids inevitably act up in response, it's not the bullies or the bad influences who get the Call From School.

The call goes to us guilt-ridden, worried parents. And we're expected to do something to fix the problem.

The only solution is for parents to use caller ID to avoid these calls. Kidding! The real answer to misbehavior is for the parents to march right down to the school playground and push little Johnny off the seesaw.

Then, when the Call From School comes, it'll be from the nurse. And the parents can act surprised and say, "Is everything all right at school?"

Hello, boss? I gotta code in my node . . .

Now that the cold/flu season is giving way to the pollen/allergy season, it's time to re-evaluate our use of employee sick days through a new feature: Ask Dr. Bedhead.

Not sure whether you're ill enough to call in sick? Feeling guilty because others are working while you're home under a blanket, watching soap operas and sucking on cough drops? Dr. Bedhead is here to assuage your fears, diagnose your ailments and offer you just the right excuse to give your boss.

Dear Dr. Bedhead: I suffer from severe allergies which cause repeated sneezing fits. This is embarrassing in the workplace, and my co-workers shun me. Should I call in sick when I'm having an allergy attack?

Dear Sneezy: Of course you should! You're entitled to sick days. If your boss complains about your absenteeism, try sneezing directly on his shirt. Sure, this is unsanitary, but it will quickly change his tune.

Dear Dr. Bedhead: I sometimes call in sick when, in reality, I'm suffering from a severe hangover. Should I feel guilty?

Dear Rummy: Of course not! If you're sick, you're sick, no matter the cause. A hangover is a self-inflicted wound, but it hurts nevertheless. Better that you should stay home, nursing yourself back to health with steady doses of Bloody Marys, than exposing your co-workers to your pasty skin, pounding head and steady nausea. If they see you in that condition, they could develop a superiority complex.

Dear Dr. Bedhead: I can never remember -- is it feed a cold and starve a fever, or the other way around?

Dear Hungry: Haha, you're such a simpleton. These old homilies have nothing to do with modern medicine. One of the great joys of the "sick day" is that you get to stay home all day -- eating. Preferably sweets. Nothing makes you feel better than, say, a pan of brownies on a sniffly day. You should "feed" all your ailments unless you are actively throwing up.

Dear Dr. Bedhead: When I'm ill, I just want to sleep all day. This seems to take all the fun out of a sick day. Am I missing something?

Dear Sleepy: Not at all! A good 12-hour nap is often just what the body needs to recover. Unfortunately, most jobs don’t allow such rest periods at the desk, so a sick day is required. As for what you're missing by sleeping all day, just tune in to daytime TV sometime. You'll see you're not missing anything at all.

Dear Dr. Bedhead: Sometimes, I just don't feel like working. Maybe I stayed up too late, watching old movies, or I'm in a bad mood or it's Monday. I'm running out of excuses, and I think my boss suspects that I'm faking. What should I do?

Dear Lazy: The miracle of modern medicine is that we have an endless supply of illnesses you can cite when calling in sick. But, in fact, you don't need to get specific when phoning your boss. Simply blame an ailment that's so personal that your manager is afraid to ask questions. If you're a woman, just say it's "female trouble." The boss will hang up so fast, he'll bark his knuckles on the phone. If you're male, start to explain that you have a "persistent itch." Believe me, your boss won't want to hear the rest.

Dear Dr. Bedhead: I am a very healthy person and take pride in my physical fitness. My slothful co-workers, who have bad habits, often call in sick, which means I'm required to do their work as well as my own. I think this is unfair. What do you think?

Dear Surly: I think you're a petty person who puts his own needs before those of the infirm. In fact, there's probably something wrong with you, an undiagnosed psychological instability of some kind. You should take a "mental health day" right away. Stay home under a blanket, eat some brownies, watch TV. I'll bet you'll be back to your old pleasant self in no time! Your co-workers will thank you!

A pox upon me

If you're considering becoming a work-at-home parent, then I'd suggest you run right out and get your shots.

Yes, shots. Vaccinations. You'll need such medical protection because children are little germ magnets. They go out into the world, gathering viruses like so much lint, then bring them home, where the sniggering viruses lie in wait for the approach of unwitting adults.

We parents expect our children to deliver a certain number of colds and the occasional flu to our homes, but it can be much worse. Standard childhood diseases -- measles, mumps, chicken pox -
- can wreak havoc on grown-ups who have no immunity against them.

If you are vague about whether you ever had chicken pox, for instance, you'd better trot over to a doctor's office and request a shot. Parents who are cavalier about such things -- such as, well, ME -- can tell you, these diseases are excruciating for grown-ups. And you won't get much sympathy from your peers, who'll be too busy laughing.

This has been Chicken Pox Spring at our house. First, our third-grader broke out in pox. He had maybe 30 of the itchy spots. He felt bad for a few days, the pox went away and he went back to school. No problem.

Then our sixth-grader contracted the disease. Since he got it from his brother, his case was worse. More than 200 spots. Out of school for more than a week. Miserable.

(Yes, yes, there's been a chicken pox vaccine available since 1995. But our sons already had all their other shots by then and we somehow missed this new development and, oh, never mind, we're terrible parents. Come and take our children away. Please.)

Since I'm the parent who works at home, I did most of the Florence Nightmare routine for our sons. Making them comfortable. Taking their temperatures. Preparing their soup.

But, you ask, hadn't Dad ever had chicken pox himself? Well, no. But I'd been around kids with the illness numerous times, so I gambled that I'd gotten immunity somewhere during my 44 years on this virus-ridden planet.

Bad gamble. A week or so after Sick Son No. 2 was all better, Dad suddenly didn't feel so good. High fever. Nausea. And then the first few pinpricks of developing pox. Consulted doctor, was warned that these diseases are much more serious for adults. Got a prescription. Settled in for a week of deliberate non-scratching.

Oh, but all the warnings were true. When chicken pox comes to your house, you don't want to be last in line. I stopped counting when my pox totaled more than 500. The worst ones were (naturally) on my face. I looked like a photo from a medical textbook: "Worst Case of Acne Ever Recorded." I couldn't shave, bathe, dress. Matted hair, unruly beard and pox, pox everywhere.
And I was contagious, which meant I couldn't leave the house. Which was fine, really, because I was too hideous to be seen in public. I made Quasimodo look like Brad Pitt.

Quarantine is an unnatural state for working parents. We're always on the go, out and about in the car, zipping from one extracurricular event to another. I couldn't even run to the store. I couldn't go out in the yard for fear of bumping into my neighbors. The bank? The supermarket? All my usual stops? Forget it. Out. I was Typhoid Harry. I had to stay home, laid up on the sofa, watching bad, bad daytime TV and trying not to scratch.

Now you'd think that someone who works at home, someone who deliberately stays home every day of his life, would be fine with two weeks of quarantine. All my work's right there at the house anyway. I'm accustomed to being home alone. But I'm also accustomed to being able to come and go as I please. Being trapped in the house gave me an entirely different kind of itch, one of wanderlust. I wanted to go out and shuffle around shopping malls, wearing a sack over my head like the Elephant Man.

But, of course, I didn't. I stayed home, carefully not scratching, until my condition cleared up. Which gave me lots of time to think about this: Sure wish I'd gotten that vaccination.

(Editor's note: This column is from 2001. My pox were all healed by the time I turned 50. If I were you, I'd still get that shot....)