Germ Warfare

(Copyright 2008 by Valentine J. Brkich. First printed in the July 2008 edition of The Point North Magazine, Wexford, Pa.)


I don't get sick very often. My immune system was hardened years ago while living in a fraternity house where raccoons prowled the living room, the floor was an ashtray, and bathrooms were cleaned monthly – if at all. By the time I graduated, my body, further protected by a thick inner lining of beer and tequila residue, was impervious to even the most aggressive of germs.

Since then, my defenses have softened, and I am more susceptible to colds and other bugs. And now that I'm a father, I know that it will only get worse. You see, kids are like germ magnets, and once they attract the germs, they inevitably pass them on to you. How sweet.

Every since my niece has been going to preschool, my parents, who watch her during the day, are constantly fighting some type of illness from the sniffles to full-blown influenza. There's not much they can do about it. My niece brings the germs home and, in no time at all, my parents are coughing and sneezing and doing shots of NyQuil. This is, after all, how the Black Plague began back in the 14th century. Some say that rats were responsible for spreading the disease; but in reality, it was just some kid who forgot to wash his hands at school.

Recently, after a family party, our baby girl fell ill and expelled her recently eaten prunes all over our once white carpet. The minute everything was cleaned up, she followed with an encore performance before later soiling both her pajamas and bedding while sleeping in her crib. The smell is still burnt into my nasal cavity.

Two days later, our baby was fine but my wife was deathly ill. So much so that we had to take her to the emergency room in the middle of the night to get treated for severe dehydration. As I coated everything in the house with a thick layer of Lysol, I hoped and prayed that I would be spared the same fate.

I wasn't.

The next morning I nearly passed out en route to the bathroom, where I remained on the floor for several moments, my head resting against the cool porcelain, until I could drag my aching, feverish body over to the couch. There I remained for two days, paralyzed and tortured by some type of merciless, evil, super-flu on steroids.

I'm happy to report that my wife, my daughter and I are all now fully recovered. However, we both realize our days of perfect health are numbered. The more gatherings we attend, the more our little girl will be passed around from person to person, picking up all types of head colds, chest colds, stomach flus, 24-hour flus, rhinoviruses, noroviruses, sore throats, strep throats, sinus infections, respiratory infections – you name it – which she will then pass on to us.

Aren't kids great?

Valentine J. Brkich is a writer and author who's currently stockpiling cases of Kleenex. If you'd like to drop him a line, e-mail him at val@brkichwriting.com.