I take it all back -- most of it

Last week I rashly advised you, my kind and loyal readers, to wash your hands before leaving the bathroom or any public restroom. I said this is the No. 1 way to avoid germs, particularly those that lead to colds and flu.

If I am supposed to be the poster boy for personal hygiene, I have to admit I was wrong.

Not dead wrong, because I am still alive, although there are some hacking episodes that have made me think about alternatives.

As of today, I have had The Crud for four weeks except for a two-day window somewhere in the middle where I actually imagined I was a normal human being.

Other than that, I have been coughing so hard that two bands of unknown muscles, across the upper chest and one lower down, feel like they are being seared on a barbecue grill.

Don't worry, if you're chugging your Cheerios. I am not going to give you details -- although I could tell you things that have happened in the past week in connection with my Current Unfortunate Situation that would make you give up solid food for a month.

But that's not my aim today.

My aim today is to tell you there must be something in addition to washing your hands that will keep you well and heal your body when it is miserable.

Problem is, I don't know what the cure is.

Neither do the doctors I see. This afternoon, I will be having my third encounter of a close kind with a practitioner of the medical healing arts in as many weeks. That's more doctor visits than I've had in the last three years.

They all want to help. They really do. But they confess that medical science isn't equipped to do battle with viral infections, only the side effects. That's why I am well into my third bottle (large economy size) of Robitussin-DM -- which, by the way, had sold out as of Wednesday evening at my favorite local pharmacy.

A couple of my colleagues here in the news department also have The Crud. We are all being generously civil about not blaming each other. Instead, we do a lot of commiserating. I know first-hand, for example, where much of the local Robitussin supply is being stockpiled.

The worst night since I last breathed a normal breath without feeling that evil tickle in my throat was Election Night. That's the night most everyone in the news department gets to stay up late and wait for faulty ballot-counting systems to spit out final results while Dan Rather says the silliest things to pass the time. It's too bad Ratherisms lose any hint of humor after midnight.

If what I have isn't the flu -- I don't have a fever or headaches, for example -- then I have only one thing to say: Bring it on.

I can't imagine that a few days of flu misery could come close to the agony of the past four weeks of virtually nonstop coughing.

And since I am not eligible for a flu shot this year (you didn't think I was that old, did you?) I'd just as soon get it out of the way while I'm still stocked up on Tylenol and cherry-menthol cough drops.

By the way, if you are shopping for cough drops, I do not recommend the cherry-menthol flavor. They taste like cherry pie with a generous topping of Vicks VapoRub. Not yummy.

If all these ramblings about my personal sufferings have left you feeling queasy, I'm sorry. Just remember that I'm under the influence of dextromethophan and guaifenesin.

Whatever they are.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.