An ode to in-flight germaphobia

We’re off to the sun
For some family fun
But I have a secret confession…
It’s not just four of us flying,
We need space for my trying
Germ avoidance obsession.

My germaphobe is not new
But it’s also quite true
That it’s gotten a whole lot worse,
Since my daughter’s diagnosis
Of Cystic Fibrosis –
An illness that can be a curse.

I’m not going to lie
Each time that we fly
It’s not people’s faces I see…
It’s seat-numbered germs
I just can’t come to terms
With the bug fest surrounding me.

Of course my kids don’t know
That their Mum’s a psycho
I do my best cover up job…
Milton wipes in one hand
All the gel in the land
‘Die, little buggies!’ I sob!

If I hear a sneeze
An audible wheeze
Or worse, a big, fat, juicy cough…
My heart starts to sink
Someone pass me a drink
Stop world, I just want to get off!

All that recycled air
Is the ultimate scare
I’m practically shitting my knickers…
For the length of the flight
The fear is not slight
Of the kids who are coughers and lickers.

If the kids need a wee,
I can’t breathe when I see
The state of the aeroplane jacks…
‘Don’t touch a thing’
Is what I must sing
While inside I have panic attacks!

You might think that I
Should give Valium a try
Or get over myself completely…
But I’ve seen how a cold
Can do damage untold
Hospitalising my sweetie.

But we must embrace life
Despite fear and strife
My daughter, she deserves to travel,
And have fun at the pool
Show new friends that she’s cool
While I pray our luck doesn’t unravel!

So wish us well as we go
All you germaphobes know
That it’s hard to relinquish control…
But with a squirt and a wipe
I’ll manage my type
And the break will be good for the soul!

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