My humiliating public coughing fit
You’re not sick but there’s a tickle in your throat and then, it happens. A coughing fit in public and now, possibly the worst social faux pas one can do.
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In Coles, recently, I had a coughing fit.
Of course, as we all know, this is now possibly the worst social faux pas one can do, given the new world order of our virus-ridden planet.
My cough, let’s be clear, wasn’t from any illness. There was no accompanying headache or runny nose or sore throat or fever.
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Rather, one minute I was happily rolling my trolley down the international food aisle, innocently eyeing off instant pappadums versus fry up your own, when it happened.
I don’t exactly know how it happened but I simply seemed to swallow my own saliva the wrong way.
This is a clever trick that I don’t think I have ever done before and couldn’t do again if I tried.
Anyway, the result was swift. I immediately let out a tiny cough, then, horrified, realised more was coming.
Desperate to hold in such a socially unacceptable display, my eyes started watering and my face flushed. Now, I actually did look suspiciously like I had escaped from mandatory quarantine.
A young mother walking up the aisle with her toddler in her disinfected trolley, slowed and eyed me warily. Did she cringe? Desperately, I turn the other way and there is another shopper – disaster! – a vulnerable older person.
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Trapped and barely able to breathe, I can only, eventually, give into the urge and cough as surreptitiously as I can into the neck of my T-shirt while walking briskly away.
Surely, by now, I have been picked up by the store’s cameras. An alert, perhaps, sent to Queensland Health and local police to check for hot spots in my travel history.
I flee the shop, pappadum-less, and finish coughing in my car.
Then, many weeks later in the office, where I have recently returned after months working from home, it is mid afternoon and I break out a snack packet of roasted chickpeas.
I eat one – just one – and it has the instant effect of drying my throat and producing a cough.
Inexplicably, a sip of water, irritates my throat even more and now there’s no stopping it.
Instant coughing fit. Oh my GOD! My socially distanced colleagues are about to report me for being a super spreader.
I slide under my desk to continue coughing, muffling my mouth as best I can while making mental note to self: do NOT eat stupid chickpea snacks outside of home ever again.
Coughing, clearly, has become the new pariah of the socially inappropriate behaviours. But I’m not the only one suffering this virus-era mortification.
In May, federal treasurer Josh Frydenberg had a coughing fit in parliament, fittingly during his COVID-19 economic statement, before being whisked away to be tested for the virus.
His coughing episode made world news and caused a flurry of speculative ‘what ifs’ – what if he infected the Prime Minister who had been sitting beside him? What if the whole parliament has to be quarantined?
Frydenberg tested negative, by the way.
Similarly, UK television money saving expert Martin Lewis had a coughing fit live on air earlier this year during a coronavirus special.
Once he stopped coughing, he quipped it would be less embarrassing to fart.
Now personally, I’m not going to test that one out in any social situation. But I am going to have some cough lozenges handy.