As I write this I am sitting with a cotton pad doused in hydrogen peroxide bandaid-ed to my top lip (take a moment to picture it, guffaw, move on) in a desparate attempt to kill the cold sore that started appearing yesterday.
Having already had what I consider to be my annual coldie in New York (and it having been so big'n'bad'n'nasty that even a pharmacist felt sorry for me, I a) really wasn't expecting another one, especially so soon and b) am mightily pissed off!
Having suffered (and I do mean suffered) with way-worse-than-average cold sores since I was sixteen (curse you first-ever boyfriend who told me that the blister on his lips was from licking the salt off the rims of cocktail glasses), I know that there is no way to get rid of a sore overnight; that it must develop, burst and scab (I do hope you're not reading this over lunch) before it begins to heal; that there is no point making it feel more important than it is (all hail King Coldie).
But I still spent over an hour this morning searching for a cure. And I'm still hopeful/gullible/desparate enough to try some of the more promising sounding ones. Of course, some of these 'remedies' were just plain bodgy, ergo, I will not be:
- rubbing earwax on it
- rubbing the oil from behind my ears (ears!) on it
- soaking it in urine
- rubbing it with salt until the entire blister has been rubbed off (along with about 10 layers of skin, I suspect).
- putting ice on it
- soaking it in hydrogen peroxide
- soothing it with a cammomile teabag
- tempted to try putting a paste of garlic on it.
Of course, getting rid of the coldie is now a full time job. Thank god it's my day off work.