>That Tugging You Feel on Your Heartstrings? It’s Me. Yeah, Hi.

>If you’ve seen me around the last few days, you may have noticed a certain pained expression on my face, a hollow, tortured look in my eyes, a reluctance to speak of, well anything. I don’t like to complain, so I didn’t mention my troubles on my blog. But the truth was, I harbored a secret that was indeed very hard to swallow.

I had a sore throat.

And this was no “Jeeves, fetch me some lozenges,”rinky dink sore throat. This was more like a razor-blades-have-taken-the-place-of-my-adenoids sore throat. It HURT. It hurt so bad that Hubs swears the first night, I woke up crying and croaking, “My throat. My throat!” I don’t remember that, but I’m sure it was true. Clearly, I was delirious from the pain.

Desperate for relief but too cheap for a co-pay and too lazy for a drive across town to my doctor’s office, I did what any smart person would do.

I turned to Facebook.

I mean, I’ve done a lot for Facebook. It was more than time for Facebook to return the favor. And besides, I have more than 700 Facebook friends. Here was a perfect opportunity to find out which of them really cared and which just wanted access to my embarrassing high school photographs.

Accordingly, I changed my status update. “Lindsay Ferrier has one hell of a sore throat,” I typed with trembling fingers. “Anyone have any ideas?”

Within minutes, the responses began pouring in.

“Eat very salty potato chips,” one Facebook friend suggested. “I eat Ruffles and call them my ‘medicinal chips.'” Ummmm, okay.

“It’s not pleasant, but gargling warm salt water gives some temporary relief,” wrote a college friend who’s now a doctor. “Other than that, chloraseptic and time.” Reading it, I frowned. This guy’s at the forefront of AIDS research and all he had to offer for my sore throat was salt water and Cloraseptic? GAH.

Others suggested hot jello, or slippery elm lozenges, or hot tea with honey and whiskey. Actually, nearly everyone suggested something involving alcohol, which made sense because about the only thing that really made me feel better was when I drank two glasses of port (the only soothing sort of liquor we had on hand) and passed out.

And then yesterday, just as I was contemplating actually cutting my throat out of my neck with a rusty butter knife, one more response came in from Facebook.

“I just got over a sore throat,” my Facebook friend said, “and the quickest relief is gargling 1/2 apple cider vinager and 1/2 water. It is really nasty, but worth it if you are really in pain. The acid in the vinager kills the bacteria in your throat immediately.”

I paused after I read it. This Facebook friend had cheered with me in high school. She totally knew about my flying crotch and all the trouble it had caused in the past. So there was a good chance that her advice was a trick, to get me back for almost killing her friend with my groin.

Still…. I was desperate. Truly, truly desperate. And so I took a deep, extraordinarily painful breath, went to the cabinet, and got down the big container of apple cider vinegar. I poured a 1/4 cup of it into a glass, along with a 1/4 cup of water. I took a sip. And I started gargling.

Great dane, was it ever nasty. It was so sour and so bitter that in my weakened state, I thought I might die from pure horror. And it burned my poor sore throat. Oh how it burned. After a moment, I choked, then spat the foul brew into the sink and gasped for breath.

As I fought back waves of nausea, I thought darkly about my supposed Facebook friend. I couldn’t believe I’d been zinged again, all these years later.

And of course, my throat still hurt!

I flung my glass at the wall, where it shattered, and stomped off to my room to cry into my pillow.

An hour later, though, I realized something significant. My throat didn’t hurt as much. I was actually feeling better. Realizing this, I ran downstairs and attempted another gargle. And then I dry heaved three times and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning, for the first time in three days my throat hardly hurt at all! I put my hands to my delicate, white throat and then ran to the mirror and sang like a Disney princess, while birds darted over my head in ecstasy.

I thought then about my Facebook friend, and all we had gone through together in the last 12 hours. Generosity. Acceptance. Treachery. Murderous rage. Relief. Healing. Forgiveness.

Facebook and an ex-cheerleader healed my sore throat. They didn’t have to, but they did. And if that doesn’t warm your heart, then you, my friend, are a cold, hard mofo, and there’s no help for you.