I just spent the last four days dealing with strep throat.
I never had strep in my life until a few years ago; now it seems I suffer through it at least once every year. It knocks me down with chills and body aches, headache, incredible fatigue, and of course, a bad sore throat. I somehow managed to get through a tax appointment and a clinic at Shriner’s for Lilly; otherwise, all I did was sleep.
In my post Surrender to the Bed (definitely not about sex), I talked about how illness like this frustrates me, that I get panicky when my life stops completely and I can’t write, or do anything else for that matter. Well, this time it was no different. Even in the throes of my misery, I thought: Aargh, writing! Housework! Lilly! Work! (Not necessarily in that order).
And like before, I learned a few things:
- Writing? Whatever. The sky will not fall if I don’t write everyday. In fact, I’m pretty sure no one notices; no one’s waiting with baited breath for my brilliant words.
- Also pretty sure the housework wouldn’t have gotten done anyway. I’m just seeing more dust and dirt because I’m lying around looking at it, instead of being too busy to notice.
- Luckily, Lilly is healthy right now, and when she wasn’t at school, my wonderful spouse was spending time with her while I napped. Illness reminds me how lucky I am to have him (he also brought me ginger ale and chicken soup), and not to take him for granted.
- Okay, I didn’t worry about work too much. I just missed one shift, and I’m pretty sure no one would have wanted me to give them the gift of strep.
After a few days of antibiotics, I’m feeling much better, and I’m starting to chip away at the things that need to be tended to, including this post. I usually have a few posts written ahead of time, ready to go on a certain day, but my draft folder is dry. This teaches me to write on the fly and just go with it. So here you go: me waxing philosophical on illness.