Lately I've been coughing up a storm. And not to gross anyone out, but stuff was coming up and it was....well, gross. Hacking away at work, at home, especially whenever I lay down flat on my back (i.e., to go to sleep), just had me feeling totally beside myself.
Which brings me to this rumination: what does it mean to be "beside" oneself? Is it like, I've stepped out of my body and I am sitting next to it watching it suffer? Or is it, I am so discombobulated that I am out of my mind (which could be a good thing) and disembodied, even? Well, these stream of consciousness rantings come as the culmination of several sleep-disturbed nights, that is for sure.
Last night, however, I did something as a last resort that seemed to help right away. I took a drop of Thyme oil on a teaspoonful of honey, and then I put a drop of Ravensara oil on a square of paper towel and held it over my nose. Then I went back to bed, and counted the seconds until I coughed again. I was like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse as I lay there, watching, waiting, tensed up to cough.
But it never came, and the next thing I know, I am awakened by the sound of the tree-cutters working next door. So I guess it worked! Yay! My husband said it was the first truly "quiet" night he had heard since I first contracted the cough, so this could be good for him too. Poor guy, has had to put up with a phlegm-spewing and lungee-coughing wife for over a week now. He ought to be canonized.