The past week has been a bit of a muddle in our household. First, my husband got sick – and when I say sick, I mean he couldn’t breathe properly, had a fever and all that good stuff. Of course, given today’s corporate culture, it’s not like he could stay home – like he should have – to cure whatever was ailing him.
So, instead, he passed it onto me.
For the past few days it seemed like I was just having more restless nights due to his labored breathing. But today, as soon as I got up, it was like there was an anvil sitting on my chest; my throat hurt, my head hurt, even my teeth hurt.
In short, everything hurts.
And as much as I really hate to admit it, at times like these I’m actually both glad and thankful that we don’t have children yet. Just dealing with the dogs is almost like asking too much – and if there was anyone I could call, I probably would’ve just to get them out of the house for a while. When I feel this crummy, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about making meals for little ones, about getting them to and from school, about listening to questions, whining, or even just talking. Aside from migraines, I really don’t get sick that often – but when I get a cold, it’s pretty bad. It’s like all the germs and yuck have been saved up all year to congregate and attack me all at once.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Didn’t I get a flu shot? The answer is no – I never have, and unless it’s a life and death situation, I never will. If my grandparents aren’t getting a flu shot, I sure as hell won’t. Which, of course, means that I have to suffer through it with the requisite guzzling of fluids (three huge cups of tea and honey, tons of water, a glass of OJ – and counting).
As miserable as I feel right now, I’m grateful. I’m grateful that it’s not a migraine. I’m grateful that I only have to look after myself – which, in my current state, is quite a feat. I’m grateful that my dogs spend most of the day sleeping peacefully, which means that I don’t have to think about them, or worry about them, or deal with them beyond letting them out every few hours. I’m grateful that I can just ride the couch with my drippy nose and sore throat like a character from a sitcom while being a “good” girl and not seriously thinking about drowning my misery (and hopefully germs, bacteria etc) in alcohol in a vain attempt to sleep it off and avoid dripping ick onto my keyboard.
Maybe the teachable lesson here is that feeling like crap reminds you of just how thankful you should be for every single day where you don’t feel like death warmed over.
See you on the other side of sickness!