I’ve actually started getting used to being sick all of the time every winter. Last winter was the plague months, and this winter seems to be no different. No different at all. Except this time I’m pregnant and achy and quite possibly even more pathetic. But at least I’m not shocked by the fact that there has been at least 1 sick person in my house since early December and it’s probably not going to end until April.
I’m sitting at work right now experiencing waves of sweat that wash over me. This is what happens when you don’t offer sick leave, America. LOOK AT ME, SWEAT COVERED, COUGHING, SNEEZING AND GROSS. Look at what you’ve done.
Last year I was kind of devastated by the never ending terrible months and months of illness. This year I am such a broken human that I almost don’t mind that my apartment has completely gone to shit, we are scrounging the last remaining food stuffs out of our cabinets because who has energy to go grocery shopping anymore? And I’m pretty sure the piles of Kleenex that live in our car and on our couch and all over the floor will eventually be picked up. I mean, the toddler loves to throw things away… everything has a developmental purpose.
Yesterday when Kamel, who was also home sick, left to go get the baby from daycare I laid on the bed in my bathrobe, sweaty and gross and unshowered, trying to will myself to get up and shower because I knew that would probably make me feel better. The title page of a movie I had rented but not yet watched was looping on the TV in the living room and it had a very pleasant tune playing on repeat.
When I was 19 I went to Mexico with my rich boyfriend’s family over New Years. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea how to be around people with money and I absolutely fumbled it. I felt poor and frumpy and I had mono and it was just the worst. But in our hotel room every time the maid service would do their thing they would turn the TV onto this station that just had a loop of aquarium fish and very calming music. To me that was the height of luxury – coming back to a hotel room with beautiful, spa-esque music playing and a loop of fish I could watch for hours at a time.
While I marinated, sweaty, in my bed of sickness, waiting for Kamel to return with our small bundle of germs, I almost felt the same as I did in that hotel room in Mexico 10 years ago. Listening to the semi far away gentle music, in a bath robe, with no pants. I almost felt fancy.