I’m sick sick sick.

Before I go on I have to acknowledge that I absolutely could be much more sick than I am.  Right now, it’s just general malaise mixed with chest congestion, chills, aches.  I also get “prickly skin” on my back when I’m sick (anyone else get that?).

I spent most of yesterday and all of this morning in bed(!)… I took an evening shower last night to try to feel better (!)…  I gratefully, happily, and dazedly drove under the speed limit to retrieve my daughter from school today—both on side streets AND the freeway (!)… Those who know me can vouch for how truly unusual those three statements are for me!  So, yeah.  Definitely sick.

Everyone has their preferences when they’re sick.  Here some of mine.  (Thanks to https://adayinthelifeof19b.blogspot.com/  for the structure idea!)

I would rather not take medicine.  Period.  I swear I’ve got some serious Oregon-Trail-wagon-train-level s*#%! in my blood.  I don’t know this for a fact, but I have a hunch I’ve got long-dead extended family members with “Suck it Up” on their tombstones.  We just didn’t do a lot of moanin’ and bellyachin’ over being sick growing up, that I can remember.  And the answer to whether we were going to school seemed to be, “You’re going,” just as often as not, so, repeating “I’m fine,”and “It’s not that bad,” while refusing medicine feels like I’m just being true to my roots.

If I do take medicine, I would rather take it without water.  See attitude above.  Do you think the Oregon Trail pioneers asked for any pansy water??

I would rather nobody know or acknowledge that I’m sick.**  I know. This is weird.  I wish I could just be gracious and say, “Thank you so much for asking,” when people ask how I am.  I know people are just trying to be nice!  But I’m trying to completely IGNORE what’s going on and get through my day, people!  I don’t need you rubbing it in my nose every few hours asking “How are you feeling????”   I try not to say this aloud, of course, and tend to just keep my responses monosyllabic.  “Fine.”  “Eh.”  “Hurts.” 

**The exception to this rule is most definitely my husband who is required to ask every five minutes whether or not I need anything and urge me to go get some rest, put my feet up, he’ll take care of everything don’t worry.  Which somehow he knows and always performs at a pro level.  And my mom.  She can ask when she wants, I’ll always take sympathy from her, but (unsurprisingly) I think she also knows not to ask too much…


I’m hoping one more long night of sleep is gonna turn this ship around, and I hope I haven’t scared off any commenters here with my grouchiness.  (Which I’m sure I also somehow picked up from my ancestors!)