To The Rescue ...
Last week I finally went to the doctor's office with the cold that had made me not only tired but downright miserable. My 3 1/2-year-old daughter Neva accompanied me and she sat quietly as I described my symptoms in vivid detail to the doctor.
I launched into some sort of filibuster about how my sinuses ached and my throat hurt. There was something about how productive my seemingly endless cough was and how I was convinced I had an infection since every tissue took on a green hue after I used it.
Today, I was once again complaining about the remnants of my cold to my wife Kathleen who by now had heard the same sob story for close to two weeks. Her sympathy waning, I was thrilled when Neva came to my defense.
"Daddy's not feeling well, he's got the greens."