by dagnyg / flickr

Imagine a train, perhaps one of those old steam-engines, chugging along, minding its own business. Suddenly a gale force wind – invisible but deadly – broadsides it, derailing it completely. Think of how that poor train would feel. Now you know how I’ve felt for the last four days.

I was humming along, going to work, making plans, happily answering #reverb10 prompts and generally content. Then, this BRUTAL GERM caught hold of my innards and flattened me. The doctor calls it an upper respiratory infection. On the form he created to prove I should remain home from work and sequester myself in the house, he actually called it a URI. That made me think of a UTI which can make one almost as miserable but is at the other end of one’s core. And that made me think I really need to start doing sit-ups again because maybe if I wasn’t in such bad shape I wouldn’t be sidelined from my life by a chest cold. And that made me realize Sudafed may have hallucinatory properties. Or it could be the fault of the herbal tinctures my mother FedExed to me upon learning of my fate. Something should definitely be their fault for tasting like garlic-accented dog shit, even when mixed with orange juice.

Thank god for Lifetime movies and the SyFy channel. I have done nothing but sleep and watch a heady mix of god-awful disaster movies and small town romantic reunion weepers for FOUR DAYS. No human contact. No energy for writing or organizing or even tweeting.

You know it’s bad when I put off taking my latest dose of NyQuil so I can stay semi-alert long enough for the conclusion of “Ice Quake.”

I’ve missed two-and-a-half days of works, days for which I will not get sick pay because my probation period doesn’t end until… next week. Yep.

I’ve had to miss my employer’s holiday party.

I’ve had to let others take charge of an event to which I was looking forward and from which I would have learned a lot.

I’ve had to withdraw from an all-day workshop with my mentee at the non-profit with which I’ve become involved.

I’ve had to cancel a much anticipated reunion with friends that has been an annual tradition for six years and which may be the last one of its kind.

All because my doctor said I should stay home and rest. All because the only thing I could actually manage to do with any skill or sense of completion was stay home and rest.

I’ve gone through four large boxes of Kleenex in four days. Is that a record? It should be. And can someone please tell me why my eyes fill with tears every time I blow my nose? It’s not that profound a moment.

I finally made my bed today, for the first time since I got sick. And then, exhausted, I had to take a nap.

I’m just trying to catch my breath.

With that breath, I drift in an odd state of gratitude…

That my exhaustion and shortness of breath is finite, when others confront with this kind of weakness for prolonged stretches of their lives.

That, despite all the things I had to accept over the past four days – the disappointments, the pangs of guilt, the sacrifice of fun stuff, the loneliness – I actually STOPPED COMPLETELY and listened to what my body wanted.

That I have a neurotic mother who will call and call and call, until I pick up, just to ensure that I’m still kicking.

That I have friends who volunteer to bring me soup even though they live on the opposite side of the city or have sick children or any number of other things to do in their busy lives.

That Yummy delivers. And has hired quite a few good looking delivery boys. Ah, the benefits of living in LaLaLand.

That, after spending the past three years envying the way my cat lives (ie. sleeping 24/7), I no longer envy my cat.

I’m so ready to be healthy again, to swallow without feeling like my throat is coated with shards of glass, to take out the trash without gasping for breath, to sit up from a prone position without immediately having to blow my nose, to focus on something more challenging than the wall without getting confused and blurry-eyed.

Health is such a gift. Enjoy yours. And if you’re feeling crappy, too, you have my sympathies. But you can’t have my Kleenex.

Image via EatReadLive

This is the month I’m supposed to be writing every day, and in case anyone was keeping count, I’m four posts behind and it isn’t even mid-month. I have a legitimate excuse, I swear. I have been moaning and groaning and wanting to chop my head off but with too little energy to crawl to the kitchen and find a meat cleaver… Yes, I have the flu, or a cold, or something. I don’t think it has anything to do with pigs, but it has laid me up but good. So, I promise I’ll double up a few days to make up those four posts because, well, I get hung up on details and I did promise 30 posts in 30 days. But right now, I’m going back to bed. xo