It’s been a surprisingly productive few weeks around our apartment. Sarah caught a cold (or so we thought — it was actually a bacterial infection) at a particularly inopportune time for a singer, and we fought back the invaders with some Antibiotika — and I was kind of surprised to hear our trusty Hausarzt was so willing to haul out the big guns. I keep hearing about how frequent use of antibiotics are contributing to the rise of hardier strains. Aber gut.

Then we seemed in the clear, bronchiwise, until we jaunted up to Leipzig for a long weekend. And along the way, she caught something else, again, some more, and shared it with me this time. By the time we caught the train back to Regensburg from Leipzig on Sunday afternoon, I could tell something was attempting to take up residence in my forehead cave.

I went to the doctor today, since what I thought was just a mild cold didn’t go away between Sunday and Friday, and in fact got markedly worse over the week, resulting in a rich warm bass speaking register for me and for Sarah some great green gobs of greasy grimy … you get the idea. The doc had a trainee doctor lady at his side and they both got a look at the inside of my face.

I attempted to say AHHH without letting any of my sick breath hit her in the face. “Sehen Sie die Schleimstraßen?” he asked her, as she depressed my tongue and illuminated my maw. I found the expression apt; it certainly felt like the slimy stuff had paved its own thoroughfares on down to my chest. I woke up this morning at 2:30 forcibly ejecting something unspeakable. Die Schleimstraßen bringen den Schleim in die Lungen.

He asked me what color I was bringing up. Greenish brown means bacteria, which means antibiotics are in order, so I got my own dose this time, along with a recommendation to share in her slime solver.

We should both be feeling better next week.