Tales from the Sick Bay
Each morning I woke up my throat was a little more raw, it was a little more difficult to swallow. I pressed on, gulping water in the process of ignoring the annoying little germ.
But then two days later it all shifted with a simple cough. An outward expression that something was not quite right.
Now Here I Am, a social outcast. All friends, acquaintances, and strangers shudder at that cough, at the moisture left on the palm of my hand.
At first I welcome this interruption to my life. I have excuses to avoid the gym, and I have an excuse to get in bed at 8 pm to read for class, permitting myself to fall asleep whenever I feel so inclined, assignment completed or not. Dear old husband is a busy ant, bringing fresh popped popcorn and endless glasses of water. Queen Bee in Bed, I am rather pleased with myself. Do I exaggerate my tormented whisper, pleading "dearest hubby, you may have forgot, but if I may ask, a napkin from the kitchen please?" That I will never admit.
Turn the clock forward a week more. I hate the taste of water, am tired of brewing gallons of tea. I don't want to burden my sleep with nighttime, odd-dream-inducing medicine. My status as a social pariah has given me no reason to wash my hair or care for my appearance. The mound of work-to-do builds with the weight of elephants on my back. I am disgusted with my being. Completely sick of being sick, if you will.
To remedy my degenerate state, I again seek, albeit desperately, a saving grace of this lingering throat malady. Long baths are taken, and my most luxurious of scented lotions are pulled from the back shelves. And if chocolate pudding is what feels the best on my angry tonsils, then indulge I shall. That fresh from who-knows-where-but costs-an-inordinate-amount-of-money-juice is now completely rational, to keep me far from death but of course (I mean, for that price, it must have potent magical qualities, no!?).
I'm glad to report the tide is turning back again towards health. Though if I forget my glass of water going to bed tonight, I can't be so sure that the croaking pathetic plea may emerge.
At first I welcome this interruption to my life. I have excuses to avoid the gym, and I have an excuse to get in bed at 8 pm to read for class, permitting myself to fall asleep whenever I feel so inclined, assignment completed or not. Dear old husband is a busy ant, bringing fresh popped popcorn and endless glasses of water. Queen Bee in Bed, I am rather pleased with myself. Do I exaggerate my tormented whisper, pleading "dearest hubby, you may have forgot, but if I may ask, a napkin from the kitchen please?" That I will never admit.
Turn the clock forward a week more. I hate the taste of water, am tired of brewing gallons of tea. I don't want to burden my sleep with nighttime, odd-dream-inducing medicine. My status as a social pariah has given me no reason to wash my hair or care for my appearance. The mound of work-to-do builds with the weight of elephants on my back. I am disgusted with my being. Completely sick of being sick, if you will.
To remedy my degenerate state, I again seek, albeit desperately, a saving grace of this lingering throat malady. Long baths are taken, and my most luxurious of scented lotions are pulled from the back shelves. And if chocolate pudding is what feels the best on my angry tonsils, then indulge I shall. That fresh from who-knows-where-but costs-an-inordinate-amount-of-money-juice is now completely rational, to keep me far from death but of course (I mean, for that price, it must have potent magical qualities, no!?).
I'm glad to report the tide is turning back again towards health. Though if I forget my glass of water going to bed tonight, I can't be so sure that the croaking pathetic plea may emerge.
For when else can you have the excuse to be so deserving of doting sympathy but when you're ill?
2 comments:
the way that you wrote this makes me smile. not at your sickness but at the talent that you have. I hope you are on your way to feeling better dear. I will be praying for you. and please write this down somewhere and send to folks in "get well" cards! haha
I am sorry that you are feeling so under the weather. I wish I had read this sooner. Your humour between coughs is appreciated too.
Be a Queen Bee, have the pillows fluffed, we all deserve special attention once in a while, xxx.
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