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Wednesday, October 2, 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. It’s not her own health that she’s paranoid about. It’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, â€Å"There, now you won’t get frostbitten,† 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, â€Å"It’s cold in here! How many of you feel cold right now?† Small hands shot up around the room and Miss Johnson agreed, â€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,† she told us, pulling the edge of her white blouse out from under her red cardigan sweater. â€Å"Is anyone wearing three layers today?† 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, â€Å"That is very smart of you. You must be very warm right now!† 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. â€Å"Deborah’s wearing five layers, Miss Johnson,† he crowed, â€Å"I saw her counting them.† I looked down at the ground, trying to avoid the laughter and teasing of my classmates.

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