. . . He had caught a violent cold, which fixed itself on his lungs and threw them into dire confusion. He had to give up work and apply, to the letter, the sorry injunction to take care of himself. At first, he slighted the task; it appeared to him it was not himself in the least he was taking care of, but an uninteresting and uninterested person with whom he had nothing in common. This person, however, improved on acquaintance, and Ralph grew at last to have a certain grudging tolerance, even an undemonstrative respect, for him. Misfortune makes strange bedfellows, and our young man, feeling that he had something at stake in the matter ... devoted to his graceless charge an amount of attention of which note was duly taken and which had at least the effect of keeping the poor fellow alive.
from The Portrait of a Lady, by Henry James
Huh. For my violent cold, my doctor just said to drink lots of fluids and call him if it got any worse. But noted for next time. :)