Archive for March, 2012

On Being Careful About What You Wish For

You’ve heard the saying:  Some days you’re the windshield, some days you’re the bug. Of course there are plenty of roles to play between those two extremes, but last week I was definitely identifying with the bug.

As for being careful what you wish for, let me back up yet another week to the two days my husband stayed home from work, ill.  His ailment was one of those weird, amorphous “things” that fit no familiar pattern.  The classic stomach flu symptoms never fully developed.  No upper respiratory stuff was going on.  He just felt lousy, slept a lot, didn’t have any appetite.  And ambition?  He might as well have been an oil reservoir with a missing drain plug. Not a drop left to be eked out.

As I scurried around doing laundry, working out, walking the dog, grocery shopping, plugging away at writing projects, cooking, serving, washing dishes, cleaning out the kitty litter box, paying bills, and organizing tax records, I paused to peek in at my snoozing husband.  “Gee,” I caught myself thinking.  “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have an excuse to just put on the brakes for a few days; to slow my roll and pull the rug out from under the daily grind; maybe catch up on some reading.”

I guess my husband doesn’t complain enough, because the minute I’ve finished my Tae-Bo and downed  my oatmeal the following Monday morning, I discover the true meaning of having the rug pulled out from under.  Soon I am crawling back into bed, feeling so limp and miserable that I want to cry.  I also want to throw up, but that relief is never visited upon me – and being recently educated about the casual offering up of wishes, I am reluctant to pursue the matter.  Oh, and my head aches.  A dull, persistent, wrap-all-the-way-around-the-shoulders ache that will not be massaged away.

Three hours later, Miss I Haven’t Been Sick in Six Years is slowly fluttering her way back to consciousness, and praying for forgiveness for both that boast and her thoughtless presumption that a change in routine “might be nice.”  I am not one to skip a meal, but I skipped several those first two days of high intensity wretchedness.

Having slogged through Day One disabled by fatigue and edgy from the sound of my stomach clunking out spasmic “gorka-gorka” rhythms at the mere thought of solid food, I go to bed early, feeling slightly better and pleading for continued improvement.  Come 2:43 a.m. and blam, I am ripped back to awareness.  It’s as if the original ton of bricks has been gathered up and re-released from 40 feet above my Sealy Posturepedic.

After 30 minutes of moaning and groaning, blessed sleep returns, and by sun-up I am able to work out and eat breakfast once again before Day Two shows itself to be merely a paler version of its predecessor. As the week passes and the symptoms gradually subside I continue to need plenty of rest, so I decide to wring a little something out of this unfortunate situation by chipping away at my reading pile.  Some light distraction is my goal. (more…)

March 28, 2012 at 9:22 pm 2 comments

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