The Pariah Cough

I have a cough at the moment which, if spreaded carefully and pandemically, could wipe out Tottenham.  Wouldn't that be terribly sad for the world if we lost so many rioting morons?  I could surreptitiously slip it into their water supply and then market it as 'Mindless Criminal Thug Napalm'.  You're welcome, Scotland Yard.  How stupid do you have to be to burn your own suburb to the ground?  Anyway, back to me.  I'm not contagious (anymore) - having what the medical fraternity like to label a 'postinfectious cough', which is a cough that you have, um, post infection. And it sucks a great deal.

She's coughing, not crying.  
Central Casting Fail.

They should call it the pariah cough, because you aren't sick enough to stay at home, thus you are in the public domain, thus you are open to the judgement and criticism of every average Joe, Tom, Dick and Harriette on the street who is not riddled with pariah germs, but probably has a home full of grotty, little germ-spreaders.

Apparently my pariah cough is going to last for another 4 - 6 weeks, so that's just tops.  The pariah cough is a conniving little bastard. It involves intermittent, spontaneous, excitable coughing outbreaks that generally occur when I am in an elevator, in a restaurant, waiting in the queue at Woolies, or anywhere else that packs the public into a confined space. However, when I go to the doctors or the chemist people, my symptoms are on their best behaviour, and my bellowing attack dog impersonation turns into a faint, whimpering "uh-uh-uh". It's humiliating.

How do you tell the chemist people that you have a evil devil cough when you politely utter "uh-uh-uh"? Stupid pariah cough. It's trying to alienate me from the human race, one medical professional / work colleague / random Woolworths shopper at a time.

So far I've worked out that, in the middle of a coughing fit, all the Benadryl, Robitussin, Duro-Tuss, Butter Menthols and Strepsils in the world won't help me; the only thing that seems to work is a glug or two of Pepsi Max. It's probably because my throat is so stunned and confused that it is not being severely punished with some pungent, apricot health poison that it just shuts the hell up. So take that pharmaceutical industry. And pull your finger out. (By the way, it is practically impossible to say "ROBITUSSIN!" whilst coughing your lungs out.)

I don't mind my annoying new habit when I'm at home, because I can cough my little heart out without do-gooders (and do-badders) bothering me with annoying cough-esque queries and proffering sometimes idiotic and illogical medical counsel and tracking me - no, JUDGING ME - with their healthy eyes, as if coughs and pariah sicknesses didn't occur in their work bays. I know most people are well meaning, which is often code for investigating whether you are contagious, but one concerned person after another turns into a marauding horde of condescending cough quasi-experts.

I have been saying to people "I'm not contagious" as part of a two-pronged attack. Firstly, it enlightens them of the non-threatening nature of my cough. Secondly, it notifies them that I have already been to the doctor, that I don't want their half-assed opinion and that I don't want to discuss my medical condition with them any further; so thank you and good day.