Tylenol y Coca-Cola

When my dad got sick and started coughing all over the house a few weeks ago, we all joked that he had fallen victim to the whooping cough epidemic. After that (staying true to his characteristically goofy sense of humor) he punctuated each cough with a loud, high pitched "WHOOP WHOOP!" It was absolutely hilarious while it lasted and never failed to make me laugh, but then just when he got better my sister managed to catch it too. It hit her harder, meaning that we had to "whoop whoop" for her, since she was so fatigued, and a few days ago she finally went to the doctor. Meantime I had been coughing a little too, but I didn't think it was that bad at first.

And then came the diagnosis: acute bronchitis, not whooping cough. My dad of course panicked and had me look up the symptoms: fatigue, coughing up mucus, sore throat, check, check, and check-- for the both of us. It's supposed to clear up on its own after a while, but for now we're armed with enough hot tea, cough drops, and books/computer games and TV (depending on which one of the sisters you're talking to) to keep us relatively happy while we recover.

The fatigue alone is driving me crazy. I went to the mall with my mom today, and not even a big Starbucks hot chocolate with whipped cream had enough caffeine in it to resuscitate me. In fact, I think it gave me a headache.

Anyways, the Cubans have been calling daily (their gossip is getting worse and worse; it seems that the whole world knows that I have a boyfriend) to check in and see if we're better yet. And I'm feeling a lot better, really, but the exhaustion is terrifically debilitating. It probably wasn't such a good idea to go to the mall today...

If I were a good Cuban, I'd keep a bottle of Coke and a bottle of Tylenol next to my bed at all times. My nutcase father keeps calling it Coca-Cola con Tylenol, not Tylenol y Coca-Cola, because he thinks it would be so much better if they just mixed the drugs right in with the Coke and sold it like that. Believe me, both companies would make tons of money if they understand their major demographic (which is old Cubans around the age of 65 who constantly moan out announcements of their impending death, which is scheduled to occur within the hour.) They could make a fortune. I'll even volunteer my grandma and great-grandma as spokeswomen. They can be like the Miller High Life guy,the one that always goes around taking beer away from people who don't deserve it, only the Cuban Crusaders will snatch bottles of PediaCare and Excedrin away instead and replace them with Coca-Cola con Tylenol, the Cuban cure for everything! (brought to you by the Association of Cubans for a Free Island. All proceeds fund la revolucion).

So yes. I am in desperate need of rest and Coca-Cola, even though I don't like it very much, and so are the Dodgers (because they're all basket cases now-- I think they actually need psychiatrists too, but that's just me.) Miraculously enough, my mom hasn't needed the potent drug for a while. At the moment, she's happily turning our house into the Museum of Family History, complete with one small shrine dedicated to my career as a track runner and another, this one housed in her long pined-for china cabinet, full of Cuban memorabilia: tiles hand-painted with traditional recipes and tiny pictures of ingredients, a shiny silver cafe Cubano-maker we bought at a drugstore in Miami, and the ARCO china that made up my great-grandma's first set of dishes in America. But that's a story for another day-- a day where I'm not thisclose to using my keyboard as a pillow.

I think I'm going to make the arduous journey to the kitchen and see if I can find myself some drugs-- the Cuban kind, of course.