The joy of convalescence

When your cold is shifting
You should feel relieved
Grateful and glowing
Or pleased at least
But you don't.
Seen-to and actually breathing
You ponder the ceiling
You and your ex-cold.
A one-night stand of a sort
Needs ending.
So you mutter some trivial fact
Make a cuppa, light a fag
And the next thing you know
It's gone.
Just like that.