I. Coming to Terms
Nothing beats a lovely morning of waking up, feeling as if you have been hit by a truck. Wait. I have spoken too soon. Let’s start over.
Nothing beats a lovely morning of waking up, feeling as if you have been hit by a truck after a night of conscious restless sleep, understanding this will severely affect my mood and personality throughout the following day, and this is all finally–reluctantly–accepted with wanting to pour hot water down my throat in order to soothe the burning sensation when I cough.
I am rarely sick. In 2004, I want to say, I had a severe case of “What-the-hell-is-this?,” which the doctors diagnosed my tonsils as being severely inflamed; yet, although it might not be mono, it could be. With that overly dramatic statement, I can assure you the doctor literally said: “I don’t know what you have.”
I was couch-ridden, and watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy for my entire February, or was it spring, break from college. I had to ride the damn thing out and drink lots of fluids. I felt bad for Ryan C., who had to ride back with me to Syracuse, dropping him off with his mother at the thruway exit. Ryan was a good sport about it, pushing my feeble body up, resting my head upon the window, and taking away my Dunkin’ coffee before I spilled it. My parents carted me to Medical Center West, where the receptionist, upon seeing me slump over in my chair, asked my parents if either of them were ventriloquists. They respectfully declined; although, I am sure they had the hankering to prop me up and make me act like one. Who wouldn’t? Fitting enough, taking was not on the top of my abilities that moment, and it was justified by my sounding like Gollum. My tonsils, which I should really have removed, were practically touching; in order to speak, I had to whisper, which was difficult in itself.
However, since 2004, I… Wait. There was a time in 2005, where I was feeling like rubbish as well. I had to go to a literary conference in Albany, and driving in the back seat of a packed car, which isn’t in my best interest due to being prone to car sickness, wasn’t the best situation. However, I made it through, having a nice snooze on the way back home. Jim: thanks, again, for driving.
In my Working Stiff years, I called into work sick twice since 2006. Bragging rights, my friends. The first time, I was forced to go home; I clearly had the flu, and it was dumb of me to come into work. The second time, was in 2010. I’ll be damned if I call into work anytime soon; I know my body well enough, it will probably not happen.
Amidst my tossing and turning, I did consider getting a flu shot for old time’s sake; however, don’t you have to wait a few days if you’re not feeling up to par? However, this could be all in my head, and this process is probably my body recovering from the weekend. I have been good about dressing appropriately to run outside; however, that’s not necessarily the case. Achilles had his heel.
My calling-in streak has ended.
II. Now What?
The state of being sick, especially colds, is terrible for me. I am an active person, so sitting around takes a mental toll. I don’t watch too many television shows, and movies will be watched time and time again. The only activity enjoyed sitting down is, well, writing. Even Nintendo gets me anxious. I have to stand if Mario is running erratically, or if I am duck hunting. I get excited over Excitebike, which is especially true when creating my own courses. However, standing only makes me feel beyond dizzy; sitting makes me cough more. Now what?
Instead of getting my coworkers sick, which I am sure they appreciate. My room is officially a disaster, and I cannot force myself to get up and clean, because of the spells. I guess I will have to just sit here and drink tea, hoping this bug only lasts for 24 hours.
I play with words and invisible objects.
A mind, a pen and a piece paper have the best relationship ever.
"Remember this--if you shut your mouth, you have your choice."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald