There are a couple of problems with that way of thinking: for one, I'm no longer in Tennessee, and I'm convinced that the common cold germs there are like NCAA Division III wrestlers and Korea's "gamgi" germs are Division I all the way. For another, those Tennessee illnesses beset me when I was in my energetic early to mid-20s, whereas now I'm a 30 year old with recurring back pain and a chest full of jeans that don't fit.

Despite my expectations of brevity, there are always a whole range of phases that must be worked through. First, there's Stage I, or the throat phase, where it hurts to talk and I spit more often than a Yankees pitcher would during the whole of All-Star Weekend. If I wake up in this condition, I have two choices: Call in to work and tell them I can't make it, or show up and let them see and hear how much they don't want me around.

The next day, or perhaps later that afternoon, the sore throat passes and Stage II, the chills and general muscle aches phase, sets in. Here starts the worst way to spend a day off: Wrapped up in a blanket that's not warm enough and never will be, I hope to sleep but struggle to do so because of breathing problems, so instead I lie awake wondering if there's a neighborhood "juk," or rice porridge, store I can stagger toward.

After the muscles aches and chills pass, then comes Stage III, or the recovery phase. During recovery only the nasal problems remain and work may continue. My experience has been that it's annoying to work while experiencing sinus difficulties, but on the upside, if you have Korean coworkers there's virtually no end to the number of tangerines you'll receive.

This year when my wife Ji-yeon woke up with gamgi symptoms after a working for a week at the hospital, I again had the first impression that she'd be better after spending a day getting some rest. This time around I was more wrong than usual: In previous years we didn't have a flu pandemic making headlines worldwide, nor did we have Daniel, our 5-month-old baby.

My first reaction when she told me, one day after her symptoms began, that she had tested positive for H1N1, was to wonder what would happen to him. She had already started recovering from her symptoms, so I was more or less sure she'd be okay. But when Daniel's nose started to run and his temperature rose, I thought back to when she was seven months pregnant and we found out that his leg length was two weeks ahead of most Korean babies at that stage, and the Korean nurses exclaimed that the ultrasound pics had shown his nose to be "very big."

When I found out he had my traits, I knew he'd never be just another person to me; he'd be part of me, and I would feel the things that hurt him.

He and my wife were checked into the hospital where she works to be watched for a few days. I could feel Stage I of gamgi setting in, but was much more concerned with the fact that when I held Daniel, he didn't reach up and grab me like usual; instead his arms hung at his side, with him too weak to lift them.

He and I were both tested for H1N1, but fortunately we both tested negative. I still had to leave them in the hospital, but not until after I had watched the nurses put an IV into his leg, which caused him to cry until his voice went hoarse. On the bright side, at least this will teach him that adults frequently will cause him great pains while saying that they're helping. This should be great preparation for university.

I was through with Stage II of my own illness a couple of days after symptoms began, and my reward was their return from the hospital, with the doctor assured that the worst had passed. Now I'm at home with them, well into my recovery stage and confident that we'll all be well again soon.

Furthermore, I will have many years to teach Daniel about how to stay well, how to recover from illnesses, and how to say, "Thanks, but I already have enough tangerines."

For more of Rob York's writings, go to rjamesyork.blogspot.com; to contact him, e-mail rjamesyork@heraldm.com -- Ed.

By Rob York

2009.11.17