Being sick is no fun anymore.

There's no one to bring you bubbly ginger ale with a bendy-straw. Remember the sound of a freshly cracked bendy-straw? The straw contorted itself so the healing waters of the ginger ale entered your lips at a most sympathetic angle.

Those were the days when Campbell's Soup meant something, darn it. Saltines were at your beck and call. And the Kleenex! Enough to wallpaper the house! Plus, you got to miss blocks of school days.

Your ailment was household news. Loved ones tiptoed into your room to receive updates on your condition. No one could sleep well knowing you weren't sleeping well. House rules would be suspended so the family dog could ball up by your feet, so snug in feety pajamas. Mom even rolled in on its casters the ol' Zenith black and white.

Being sick was too good to last.

These past few weeks, we adults have been sick all over the place. It's the flu or that thing which has no name but is simply known for its "flu-like symptoms." Apparently, there's some medical distinction between having the flu and flu-like symptoms. For our clinical purposes, who cares?

We are all sick and we are making each other sick. And some among us, who have been sicker longer than others, are really sick of being sick. Their normal cheerful dispositions have soured to the point where they are uprooting televisions and throwing them out windows. This is a not good thing, and even management would agree on this point.

Being a sick adult is nothing like being a sick kid. For one thing, our kids are tossing and hurling their germs around the house and making us ill. And this does bother them. They seem to think being sick is some kind of right they have, and that we need to just buck up and bring them more ginger ale.

(I'm starting to resent the family Labrador. No matter how much yuckiness befalls the household, not once has the dog developed flu-like symptoms. Not one teeny cough or sniffle. True, the dog stills throws up the rocks she eats, but that's another affliction.)

So, here we are, a bunch of sickies. But we drag ourselves to work so that we may be with other sick adults. The problem is no one cares that we are achy, sniffly, drainy -- except when we limp into a healthy person's space. They are so smug, so superior. But soon, they'll be trolling for tea. (Fact: If you get sick at work, someone, somewhere will hand you a tea bag. This, of course, allows the sickee to cough up tea.)

Home is no better on the sympathy front. If you've been married for more than 20 minutes, you already know how things have tragically changed in the marriage. Moaning "I'm near death" no longer elicits a sincere outpouring of care and duty. And using a "baby voice" to ask for a treatment of Vick's Vapo-Rub is now considered demented. Rub yourself is clearly the message.

If you need a tissue, you have to get up yourself and get one. This means leaving your bed and moving your lower limbs in a walking motion. This leads to exertion, which often leads to premature death. All because you need to blow your nose and your wife was "busy" feeding the children and paying the mortgage, so-called.

You can tell the people who just started dating. They see sickness as an opportunity to shine. That lovely lady you just saw over a candlelit dinner, her lips pursed before a glass of Merlot, her perfume ("Envy" by Gucci) wafting through your very being -- well, she is now before you in a bathrobe that some family member could have been buried in.

She has sick person's breath and is clawing for the rich bouquet of Nyquil. But this is love! You spring into action and meet her every medicinal need. She is grumpy but you understand. You wake her up constantly to ask how she's feeling.

Your "helping" brings her to the edge of violence. But she keeps such thoughts private because your love is young -- and she needs a pint of Ben & Jerry's ASAP. If you get sick, she might bring over an entire cooked meal, which you later lose in its entirety.

After the six-month dating mark, you don't drop over as often when your partner is sick. Waking her up by calling seems to do the trick. And if you two kids get married, then one will simply be asked to move out while the other is recuperating.

This sounds harsh, but some area hotels offer reasonable weekend packages. It's a good deal, actually. Order up some ginger ale from room service. Watch a little TV.

Don't forget to bring your bendy-straws.

Pub Date: 3/03/99