Yeah, that’s a bucket. Just in case.
He ate a few crackers. He ate some soup. He got ready for bed, took some medicine. Drank some water.
I prepared the futon. He got in it and under the blankets. We had family prayer, and now he will sleep.
I probably will not.
Get better, love.
dr. friend: so i don’t think i’m particularly cool with this whole not being able to chat with you
lolLast month my dad underwent some surgery, and he’s homebound for the next three months or so. His creditors keep calling me and leaving messages to give to him, but he gave me a dud phone number. Whenever he calls it’s always been during class or work, so I miss his calls. He left a message on Friday wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. I wish I could call him back.
Sometimes when I try to call my brother, the line actually connects and we talk for a good long time. It’s fun. Other times it just rings and rings, and I have to wait until he wants to talk or is available. Sometimes that takes weeks. He seemed to be doing well the last time we talked.
Just got off the phone with Mom. She has pneumonia.
I’ve been relatively healthy so far. Outside of a summer cold or two, and then a sore throat that didn’t progress this last week, I’ve been quite okay. Keeping warm in the mornings waiting for the bus, even though I have to delayer by the afternoon. Avoiding touching door handles or grabbing uncommon areas of door handles if I have to pull open a door. College students can be just as bad as toddlers when it comes to illness. Since they’re students, and since they’re Mormon, they’re dedicated and come to class ready to share their germs as if the Law of Consecration specifically enforces it.
I am sick, though. Homesick. I wish I could sit in a room full of the people I love and I could see them, and we could talk and laugh. There’d be hugs and smiles and lots of eye contact and inside jokes and reminiscing and catching up. This feeling does wax and wane but it never really passes.
(I’m gonna head all these up by saying I shouldn’t have even stepped outside. Seriously. It only gets worse every time I leave the building.)
-gone to church, though that would have meant I wouldn’t have been to the incredible meetings which ended in a splendid, joyous weepfest
-held a baby, and I apologize to the mom for holding her even though I’m sick. But, it was a sleeping baby, and I couldn’t resist, but then the baby woke, and I didn’t want to hold her on my shoulder, close to my face, so I gave her back to the mom, and I felt better when someone healthy could comfort her.
-lingered longer after church. Being cooped up in the apartment against my will has made me crave some social interaction, but I saw a few people there I wanted to hug, because they were sad.
-gone to dinner at a friend’s place (without a jacket). It was a relatively pleasant day in the afternoon. I shouldn’t actually have accepted the invitation to dinner, but these were some of my favorite people, and it was hard to say no.
-gone outside yesterday. But that would have meant I probably wouldn’t have gotten to see some friends for yet another week that I really wanted to see.
I’m very glad I saw them.
So, while I should be taking care of myself, I really miss people. My life has been so much about me lately, and I guess it needs to keep being about me until I get better. Consider all the hugging I couldn’t do, or comforting babies, or sharing food, or giving backrubs. Those are things I’m pretty good at, and my being sick benefits no one.
What I will do now is bundle up and go to the store and pick up some juice and a nice herbal tea and something electrolytic and perhaps something chocolate. Yes.
I should have done that long before now.
“There has to be some powerful metaphor about my sore throat and not being able to sing loud or high or in tune and how I can hear myself and it’s a little amusing yet frustrating because my vocal chords really do want to sound good, but all I can really do is croak. Does that count, croaking? When the desire is there and that’s all that’s within my ability at this time?”
That’s all I got. Less than half a page in a small notebook that I carry around. Trying to sing hymns today was a little challenging. But I had healthy, strong voices around me supporting me, worshiping through their robust song. It didn’t diminish my church experience at all. Quite the contrary.
Church today was pretty amazing, the spirit was particularly strong. The speakers’ messages rang especially true within me. Sunday school classes were insightful and stimulating and profound. The stream of tears was constant. The fellowship and unity were tight.
The sun is shining. I still sound a little bit froggy, but my health is definitely on the upswing.
For all those who know what’s going on in my life, thank you for your prayers and support, your buoying spirits, your being there, just like angels.
My body decided to stick to a seminary schedule instead of switching to a sick schedule. I woke up at 4:00 this morning, and it was just as well, because I couldn’t breathe. I used the bathroom and got a drink of water and ate another cough drop. I’ve discovered that sitting up or being upright helps my breathing quite a bit. The exudate from my respiratory tract is thick and viscous, and when I’m lying down, it probably accumulates in the passages and near the openings and blocks the breathways. When I tried blowing my nose, it wasn’t … productive. It’s probably so sticky and so dense it clings to the walls of my nose and throat.
Did I even mention the drool? Since I couldn’t breathe out of my nose, I slept with my mouth open, and when I woke up at 4:00 the hair by my face was wet; my left cheek was slimy. I swallowed, and maybe a full teaspoon of saliva descended my burning throat. It was out of control. My body is not mine when I’m sick.
But, I did go back to bed. My body was probably a little ticked that I tried forcing a sick schedule on it (I set my alarm for 8:45, because that seemed to be a reasonable time to get up and that would have given me 9 hours of much desired and needed rest) because I woke up at 7:00 this morning with the gut feeling I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. My breathing felt a little halted, so I decided to take a shower, hoping the steam would loosen up the gunk. It was somewhat helpful. I’ll spare describing the loogies, except to say they were like little mucus manatees, traveling to the drain at their own pace, paying no mind to the water’s swift stream to the same drain.
And now, I’m typing in my living room. One of my roommates is sick, too, and she seems to be doing a dandy job sleeping like she’s on a sick schedule. My lower back aches; my thorax feels like one of those Dante ovens in one of the inner circles; the fronts of my shins are throbbing, not in a shin splint way, but like my pulse is trying to dig an escape route through my shins. It’s weird. And, my throat. Somebody, please extinguish my throat.
I made some cream of wheat, and it was perfect. I took some cold medicine, and I drank some more water. The need to blow my nose is constant, but whenever I try, hardly anything comes. If I ever get back to sleep, I’ll try it sitting up or at least at a decent incline. It’s nice to breathe.
Today is going to be full of reading and writing. And maybe even just staring at the television. I’m going to keep encouraging a sick schedule on my body. I’ll be in my pajamas all day. If any of you want to risk the trek to north Manhattan for a visit, that would be great, but I’ll understand if you don’t. This ramble might have grossed you out enough to keep you as far away from me as possible.
It looks beautiful outside. Enjoy it. Have a great weekend.
is sleep
and maybe blow my nose
is get a backrub
and eat some soup
and take some drugs
and a nice hot shower
and sleep some more.
Did you know it snowed today? Here? On the first day of spring?
