I consider myself very lucky that I rarely get sick. But when I do, there is a definite routine to the whole sickness game. In my world, sick doesn't mean bed and bedroom-ridden. Nope. Sick means move directly to the couch. Sick also requires the special pillow (still alive and kicking) one regular pillow and some sort of special blanket. Sadly, it is no longer THE special blanket, because I think that fell apart after several decades of use. Sick also requires the remote, the telephone (never outgoing -- always mid-day incoming how are you feeling?) a thermometer, a box of Kleenex (if necessary) and a wet washcloth, if I am feeling particularly 5-year-oldish.
Once established on the couch of sick with all necessary accouterments, the days are spent watching and sleeping through daytime TV while the sick runs its course. It's not very exciting, but then again, neither is the sick. It's just what I do to get by.
After a couple of days, though, I always feel like I've had enough. It's not because I suddenly and miraculously feel all better. Unfortunately, sick never seems to work that way. It's more like I'm tired of laying on the couch and watching horrid TV. The house feels stuffy and I feel skunky. It's also about this time that I decide that maybe I'll try to eat something. Not because I'm particularly hungry, but because you have to start somewhere, and somehow trying to eat something seems to be the thing to do.
After successfully eating a something or two, I usually decide it's time to get up and start moving again. And then, I'm faced with the aftermath of being sick. The house is a MESS. I am a MESS. There are dirty dishes in the kitchen, tissues in the living room, and a dishevelled pile of pillows and blankets. Sick is SICK, and it's right about now that I seriously consider taking to my bed so I don't have to face the detritus scattered across several rooms. Eventually, though, I have no choice, and it's time to get up, roll up my bed and walk, to quote the scriptures.
It usually takes me a little longer to clean up after the sick because I'm so tired. But it often feels good to take control of my house again. The dishes are washed and put away, the special pillow stowed for the time being, and nothing....nothing feels so good as a nice long shower. When all that is finally accomplished, even though I am still tired and weak, I know sick is on its way out the door. Good riddance. It's about time. I'm through with you.
This past Friday I spent the entire evening taking control of my house again. I started in the farthest corner of the kitchen and just started cleaning. Dishes were done. Refrigerator cleaned out. Floor swept. Cabinets and counters wiped down. I was tired, but it felt so good to gain control, inch by inch. Laundry was washed and folded and put away. The basement was returned (somewhat) to its former glory. Saturday began phase one of teenage-planned basement makeover. It's nothing too exciting at the moment, but we have two new lamps plugged into two new plugs! and a long story whose moral is: It is impossible to transport a new Papasan chair and cushion in a subcompact car unless your child is willing to wear the base of said chair around her head like a lampshade.
So, if you ask me how I'm doing right now, I'll probably say I'm OK. And sometimes it means I really am OK, and sometimes it means I'm not. But even if I feel tired and weak, what I really mean when I say I'm OK is that I'm tired of is being sick. I'm ready to get up and get moving. It's time to get up, get my house in order and take control. It's time to show sick the door. Good riddance. I'm through with you.
At least I hope I am.