THE COMMON ENEMY

Evening Star, Issue 25577, 1 September 1945, Page 10

THE COMMON ENEMY

(Written by Mary Scott for the ' Evening Star.')

Now;-that half the world has given up finding ways and means to kill the other half, is indeed pausing, shocked at having devised a means of exterminating its very self, now perhaps science will be able to spare time to attend to the ordinary man and woman and their petty, but tiresome, ills. Perhaps some benevolent professor will think of a way of cleaning stove flues without begriming the kitchen and one's self; of weeding carrots without contracting lumbago; of turning the dentist's waiting room into a haven of rest; and of curing that humblest and most unpleasant of complaints, the common cold. Early spring is the time for this enemy to rear its head and take toll of one's friends. That insidious promise of warmth, that sunny morning that turns in a second to bleakness and catches you without a coat, that romantic walk through daisy-pied and rainsoaked paddocks, that excursion to the old orchard to pick the golden daffodils that make your heart leap up, like Wordsworth's, but also your feet wet, as poor Dorothy's probably were—all these are means to an end—and that end is a heavy cold in the head. Nothing, in my opinion, is more undignified than this humble ailment, and nothing arouses less sympathy amongst one's friends and neighbours. It is now, I observe, the fashion to describe your cold as " a touch of influenza," or, at the least, " a bad influenza cold." That lends it dignity and makes it sound better—even if it feels exactly the same. There is something impressive about influenza; a common cold is merely humiliating. Your friends may shun yon and your influenza like the devil, but they will speak of you with some sympathy and respect. "Poor M. has influenza; high temperatures and l so on; quite a nasty germ." One can put up with something in a cause like that. But, if you have merely a heavy head cold, they will just come and grin at you, say that your nose looks as if you had been indulging in prolonged peace celebrations, and probably imitate your pronunciation. It is most aggravating, and your only consolation is that it is as easy to pass on a common cold as an influenza germ, and, with any _ luo'k, your jeering friend ought to be laid low next week.

There are two common methods of combating a cold in the head, the technique being exactly opposite in the two cases. First, there is the victim who takes his cold seriously and at the very onset, the merest tickling of the nose, the barest suspicion of a sore throat, doses himself with immense severity. He takes every possible pre-

caution—save, of course, that of spreading the infection—and retires immediately to bed, armed with hot water bags and aspirin. In the good old days he also resorted to a bottle of whisky, and therefore might almost be said to have enjoyed his brief illness and to have taken a reasonable time over his recovery. But, in these sterner and less • self-indulgent days, he merely gargles and inhales and poultices and rubs, taking innumerable patent medicines the while. He tells you stories of colds that turned to pneumonia and ended in 'untimely demise, and insists that his affliction be regarded as a major catastrophe. He goes to sleep at last, so filled with medicines and hot drinks and pills, that he sleeps restlessly, and wakes considerably worse in the morning. Or if, perchance, lie should succeed in checking the cold, he is usually prostrated by the violence of his remedies. The victim of that eompla ; nt known as " the morning after the night before " knows no' unhappier state. A bad taste in the mouth, an aching head, a general feeling of lassitude, combined with an irritable temper—these are the consequences of converting hjs interior into a chemist's shop at the first threatening of the complaint. It takes the patient rather longer to recover from his remedies than it would have done to *' survive the cold, but that does not dampen his enthusiasm for his own doctoring. He talks triumphantly about " beating that germ," and tells you for the next month precisely how. he achieved it. Tndeed, his success nsii-

ally Hies- to a head rendered .temporarily empty by the departure of his cold, and he sets himself to doctor all his acquaintances—thus becoming . a greater bore than when he snivelled loudly and talked through his nose. The other technique is to ignore the ■?old altogether, to be hardy and superior, to say: " Qhi a cold never worries me; I guess I can take it"—and not only, to take the cold, but to pass it on. These people are almost as trying as the other type. They' refuse to cancel any engagement, ring you up and remark, almost unintelligibly: •' T've got a bit of a cold, but I don't Kuopose you're frghtened of that."- Of course you are. You're terrified of matching it. but you don't like to say so. It sounds so weak-minded. You say : "Oh. no. of course not," titter feeblv at the very idea, and rush to take some aspirin before he.comes, and some nose ■ irops when he has finally blown his last blast upon-your door step. But vou catch it all the same.

He remains horribly hearty throughout the entire course of his complaint, laughing loudlv about the whole affair, assuring you that he hasn't had a cold since '34, and ending up by saying: " What's a cold, anyway? People are too soft nowadays." He eats enormously the whole time, and is fond of emoting the old advice " to feed a cold and starve a fever." It is worth noting that this is a favourite maxim also of the man who takes • his .cold seriously ; as he refuses all sustenance save lemon drinks, he reminds you that anyone but a fool would understand that this old adage meant—" If you feed a cold, you will have cause later to starve a fever." In any case, - whichever is night, it proves very comforting to them both.

It is a.curious thing that people who are heroic in severe-pain and serious illnesses .are often unable to take a cold with calm, normality. They rush to one extreme or the other: either it is a ; farce or a tragedy. Uifless it can be elevated to the status of influenza, it appears to be an .insidious attack upon their self-respect, and makes the patieut extremely tiresome. From all these, remarks, gentle reader, you will decide that I have just been afflicted by the common. enemy; on the contrary, my case is a harder r>ne —I have been the.only robust and untouched one in a household of victims, and have had all the work to do. Hence the bitterness.