I am not cut out for being sick. To be honest, I am just not good at it. Recollections of the “sick days” of my childhood bring to mind images of me resting in my mom’s bed watching reruns of the Brady Bunch while sipping chicken noodle soup. Not to mention all the Jello I could ever want at my disposal. Back then, sick days were fun. No school, no homework, no responsibility. Now that I have had the chance to further reflect, I realize probably wasn’t all that “sick” at the time.
Because for the second time this Winter I found myself nearly incapacitated and lying in bed with a temperature of 102. That is sick. Tuesday night I revisited every meal I have ever eaten since moving to San Francisco and yesterday it seemed every joint in my body was throbbing, vibrating or twitching in pain. I actually gave that description a lot of thought. Too sore to sleep and too miserable to read, I lay in bed pondering what level of pain I was in and how I would describe it to the cute doctors in the ER should I need their assistance. Hey, I had the time.
I am pretty sure I recovered as quickly as I did out of boredom. Since mastering the art of moaning to myself the last time I fell ill, I didn’t really leave much to improve upon. Well, except for that huge bin of newspapers in the corner of my room staring me down because they need to be organized into a portfolio …
And as far as amusing myself goes – I failed miserably. We got a new TV for Christmas that I attempted to watch for the first time but the double remote action turned out to be more than I could handle. Side note: With so many improvements in TV technology today: HDTV, plasma, TiVo, one would think it could all be contained on one remote. Is anyone working on this? I considered keeping a log of my activities but I didn’t do all that much worth writing about. After all, I was sick. So while I am uncertain if it was guilt or boredom that prompted my miraculous recovery, either way, it’s good to be back.