Title: The Fragrance of Health

Author: Fannie Feazell

Fandom: Original

Archive: Yes

Disclaimer: Original and copyrighted

Status: Finished. For the WritingCramp contest at writing.com

Rating: G

The Fragrance of Health
By Fannie Feazell (AKA Scribe)

*cough* *sniff*

I had shoved my head under the pillow the moment I felt the rasp in my throat, but it didn't work. My wife has the hearing of an over-sensitized bat. The pillow was pulled off my face. "You're coming down with a cold." The statement was closer to triumphant than sympathetic.

"No, no. Just a little dust." A scowl. Dust--in her house? "Pollen. The pollen count must be through the roof today."

"You're coming down with a cold. What you need is a good cup of ginseng tea, with honey and lemon."

Bleh, but there was no use fighting it. The women of my wife's family were all frustrated Florence Nightengales, but they used folk remedies instead of pharmaceuticals. I propped myself up in bed and accepted the tea when it was offered. The sharp smell of ginger cleared my sinuses, making my nose drip--a further sign of sickness. At least I got something tasty out of this. She brought me chips with Five Alarm Salsa, and those peppers really cleared my sinuses. But then she decided that with all that drainage I needed to irrigate my throat, so I had to gargle a large glass of warm, salty water. I smelled distinctly briny after that.

Even back in the bedroom I could tell what she was cooking me for lunch--cabbage is very distinct. She told me brightly that it was good for asthma and bronchitis, so it should help with my stuffiness.

"Let's forget for the moment that I'm no longer stuffy. Why the asparagus?"

"It detoxifies the liver."

"Since when is my liver toxic?" But there was no point in complaining. I ate the stewed cabbage and asparagus. I even drank the celery juice, God help me. After all, it was supposed to aid in digestion, and soothe the nerves, and by this point I needed both of these effects.

My mother-in-law dropped in, because she'd heard of my health crisis. Her mother had always treated coughs with onion syrup, so in few minutes I was trying to dodge a spoonful of sugar sweetened onion juice. She scolded me, and I said it just seemed like a weird remedy.

"Oh? And how would you suggest we treat a cough?" she said loftily.

"Have you ever heard of Robitussen?"

That afternoon I had to sit with a basin of hot water and vinegar in my lap, bending over it with a towel over my head. That made me cough, just as my teenage daughter came in to visit me. "Daddy! You need a cough remedy."

I groaned. "Not you, too!"

"I read something in this book about folk remedies at school..."

"Baby, please..."

"It's crushed peppermint and whiskey."

"The bottle is under the sink, and you can pick some Starlight Mints out of the candy bowl. Use the rolling pin to crush them." Maybe it didn't work, but it was a lot more pleasant than the other remedies I'd been put through.

My wife was pushing orange juice (vitamin C) and cranberry juice (good for the kidneys) on me that afternoon. I protested, "I know you mean well, but all this is giving me a headache. Just as Bob to come over." Bob is our next-door neighbor--a general practitioner who will generously make an unofficial house call now and then.

She agreed, and left the room. A minute later she came back, telling me that he'd be over soon. Then she handed me some sort of green herb and told me to chew it. "I'm not chewing something that might be toxic."

"Would I do that to you? It's perfectly safe, and it's good for headaches. I'll chew it myself if you don't trust..."

"Give it here," I said tiredly. I chewed it up (but spat it out after a little while). It wasn't too bad. By now I felt exhausted, so settled down to nap while waiting for Bob.

I woke up thinking that the cold must have gotten worse, because I was feeling suffocated. Once I was lucid, I realized that was because Snicklefritz, our Maine Coon Cat, was crouched on my chest, avidly sniffing my mouth. He had a goofy, glazed look, and I suddenly realized what that herb had been. My wife had raided his potted catnip. It took me a few seconds to dislodge him. When I did, he just rolled on the bed beside me, doing feline giggles--stoned out of his gourd. I was beginning to wish that it had the same effect on me.

Bob came in, saying, "I hear you're sick."

"I am now," I said grumpily.

"Let's just take a look." He bent down close to me... right into the ginseng, lemon, cabbage, asparagus, peppermint, whiskey, vinegar, salt, salsa, orange, cranberry, catnip, and onion funk. His eyes crossed, and he put a hand to the wall for support, gasping, "I'm dizzy!"

"Dizzy?" My wife was standing in the doorway. She looked excited. "Gingko, celery, jimsonweed, pumpkin seeds, chamomile flowers, fennel, orange rind, peppermint and spearmint..." She bustled out of the room.

I looked at Bob. "Can you move?" He nodded. "Run."

END