Confessions of a Vitamin Junkie

As the exec director of several child development centers, a couple years ago I was also building points on my Doctor's "frequent flier" card towards a vacation in Monte Carlo. I was on his top ten list of "Patients with Funny Stories." (usually these included flying boogers, projectile vomit, or parents who insisted that little susie's radiant scarlet eyes were due to a "shampoo incident" and certainly NOT to pink eye) Um....yeah. I laundered my clothing in bleach, snorted hand sanitizer, and used lysol as perfume. (I was partial to Springtime Meadow--so fresh and dewy)

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Yet there I was, time after time, sounding like an emphysema patient or chucking monkeys at the porcelain goddess. I'd had it. So ye ole google and I came up with a solution. (exactly what in the hell did we ever do before the Internet??) After looking up `immune system and vitamins' I had come up with a list of goodies that were essential to your health. These included garlic, a, e, the b's, c of course, zinc and magnesium. Off I trundled to the drugstore to purchase a granny-sized seven-day pill holder in a lovely shade of robins-egg blue that I could use as a weapon in a pinch. A regular women's daily as well as additional supplements of the others on the list filled up my basket and nearly cleared out my checking account.

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It took almost two hours for me to conquer the child-proof lids and safety seals and dole out a weeks worth of pastel pillege--not to mention assuring my husband that I had indeed not lost my marbles and replaced them with liqui-gels.

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Month one passed......wow. Month two....holy wow. YEAR one.....Saint Jehosephat's nads, this is WORKING! Folks, three years and seven months--not a SINGLE cold. Not O. N. E. I have three boys and a husband who have brought home a vast plethora of snot and sniffles, more than one case of the chuckles, and NADA. And then.....

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Oh ye hateful arrogance! Smash ye to cinders all who scoff at the anti-bacterial wipes for grocery carts even as ye watch the red-eyed pigmy demon hock up el-mucus-o and finger paint on the handle of the buggy next to you.......ye shall PERISH!

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Cough...sputter...gasp.

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This week.....for the first time in nearly four years, I have gotten ill. (ahem) Make that, "I have visited the tunnel of light and am clinging to life with broken fingernails and lifevest made from halls wrappers." I've woven a rope from used tissues to tie myself to the brink of sanity. I have had lengthy conversations with the most adorable little asian doc-ette about the color of the crap I cough up. Bigelow Tea has offered me a spot as spokesperson as I've broken the world record--27 cups-o-liquid-love in less than 12 hours. My pee smells like lemons....and menthol.

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I have met the maharajah of viral malaise and he whooped my proverbial ass.

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It has terrified my kids--they have no real memories of sick mommy. They have also eaten pizza, hot dogs, and cold cereal three meals a day for a week. My husband has been grand and the wonton soup he has brought home by the bucket has been my single joy as well as the only thing I can taste.

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I'm still a believer, and still popping the goodies....along with anti-biotics and have begun to have strong feelings for my nasal spray. However, I am praying that this will be an isolated incident...once every four years I can handle--although the holiday timing of this has really jacked up Santa's schedule.

My eldest said from the doorway of my room--afraid to enter, "Too bad it's not halloween mum, 'cause you'd be a really good Darth Vader."