My Case of the Flu

Wednesday was our sight seeing day in Dublin. Although we saw the city lights Tuesday night in Dublin when Kevin and Kit (essentially, Karinne’s cousins—too much family tree-age to explain) took us out, we wanted to see more than the interior of pubs and clubs.

To say the least, we were tired. We danced until the bars shut down at 3:00 in the morning Tuesday, and arrived home in time for bed at 4:00. Karinne came into my room Wednesday morning at 9:30 and asked if I was ready to see Dublin. I angrily grumbled/coughed “Yessssss” while attempting to throw a pillow at her.

But, despite a severe case of the yawns and my persistent cold that I caught in Rome, the city was great. We saw the beautiful campus at Trinity College, shopped Grafton Street, and attempted to listen to nightsong at Christ Church (it was cancelled due to the spring holidays).

When we signed up for a tour of Dublin Castle, my cough had reached annoying heights. I was diagnosed with asthma in eighth grade when I got a cold that never seemed to wane, and ever since then, my cough has taken on a distinct seal-like quality. Anyone who has ever heard water go down my wrong pipe knows what I am talking about. It is loud and barking.

We were touring around the castle, and I was trying to stifle the noise of my coughs in my coat sleeve when I heard the lady next to me murmur to her traveling companion, “That girl definitely has the swine flu.”

I giggled when I heard this, and Karinne smiled at me as well, as we both know that my cough simply sounds worse than it is. But this lady was convinced. Every time I coughed during the hour-long tour, she visibly winced, then covered her face in an attempt to block her mouth from my supposedly swiney germs. She even made a point to stand as far away from me as possible, even leaning away from me despite the twenty feet that stood between us.

After the tour, I decided a stop at the pharmacy was possibly a necessary thing to do, and after I took some medicine, my cough was much improved and much less frightening to the other tourists around me.

We made tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner in Clontarf (my favorite sick food), and I took some cough medicine that completely knocked me out. I slept deeply and dreamed of rolling hills, grazing cows, and seemingly endless expanses of green.