Yes, I’m sick and not just sick and tired but sick. Ill. Feeling feverish. Germy. A walking cesspool of bacteria and viruses. A virtual lab at the Center for Disease Control on two legs. So far nothing has been spewing out of any orifices and I’m relieved about that but I still feel achy, and not quite right. Now a lot of people would be tempted to say I have never been quite right and I would have to agree but that is for another post another day, after I’ve seen my shrink. But for today suffice it to say that if I could have stayed in bed, I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I would be sleeping. Probably with a cat or two on my head. And maybe a dog stealing all the blankets. I’ve slept with dogs before and I know what they are like. “Just let me sleep here. I will take up this little corner. You won’t even know I’m here.” and the next thing you know you are on the floor and the dog is stretched out across the center of the bed.
So, yeah, I’m sick. My head feels like someone vacuumed out my brain and left a note that says, “Out of Order”. My eyelids are somewhere around my kneecaps and feel like they weigh the equivalent of a couple of bull elephants. Not that I really know what that kind of weight would feel like but I’ve got an imagination. Sometimes too good of an imagination. Like the time I imagined I could go to work with a fever of 40C (104F) and clearly delirious. My boss imagined I would be better off at home and called me a cab. Obviously, he had a much better imagination than me.
It bugs me to be sick. I don’t have time for it. I have a job interview on Thursday. They wanted to do it today but there is something about a hacking, snivelling, shivering interviewee that some people find very unattractive. Go figure. So now I have to feel better by Thursday. Time to start taking as much vitamin C as I can.
I can remember a time when I did have time to be sick. That was before I got married and had kids. Then I could lie on the couch watching soap operas with my cats, a nice hot cup of tea burning my hands but soothing the rasp in my throat. Add some sugar and it was a miracle drug, the warm sweetness comforting everything that ached. I would wrap myself in a blanket and not move until I felt better, or until I had to go to the bathroom, but the point is I didn’t have to leave my apartment and interact with people who were only going to annoy me. When I’m sick I just want to be left alone. The blissful peace of not having to talk to anyone. I could lie on the couch and pretend to be a hermit. “Get off my lawn!” has probably been the most useful phrase I’ve ever learned and comes in really handy when I’m sick.
I can never remember if it’s starve a fever and feed a cold or the other way around. Not that it matters today. My breakfast was sitting in my stomach like a lump of dirty socks for most of the day and I just finished a bowl of soup that I may regret later. There is nothing like revisiting previous meals that will turn you off food altogether. That is until you get better, then you could eat forest, bark and everything (I am vegetarian). But right now I’m thinking of the party I have to go to in seven (!) days and wondering if this illness will help me lose enough weight that I can fit into those size 6 pants I have. No one ever talks about the sickness diet, do they. Of course it has it’s drawbacks like, well, actually being sick. Nothing is perfect you know.
Well, I think I’ll drag myself to bed and hope that sleep will heal me and I’ll feel like a new woman in the morning. Mind you, if I feel like a new woman in the morning hopefully I’ll feel like Cindy Crawford otherwise what’s the point?