On Being Sick

Remember how, on Friday I was all like “I love taking a long weekend for the hell of it”? Apparently my body was thinking that I really needed even more time off. On Saturday the flu descended on me and is digging in for a stay. Apparently it likes the accommodations a bit too much. At least I have nearly 90 hours of PTO built up, which, I suppose, is how I wound up here in the first place.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what it was like to be sick as a kid. Most times my gram was the one to care for me when I was sick. My mom was a teacher, so it wasn’t generally easy for her to get me from school or sit with me at home. My gram, on the other hand, was a paralegal, which left her with the ability to pick me up or take time off to sit with me.

Sometimes she would take me back to the law firm. On quiet days she would push together two conference chairs in the board room. There was a coffee shop two doors down where she would get me toast with butter and jam wrapped in wax paper, and a Veryfine Fruit Punch. If she had the flexibility to take me home, she would bundle me up on the sofa in the living room, in an orange and avocado crocheted blanket, and would make me Lipton’s re-hydratable noodle soup. I would drift in and out while I Love Lucy reruns played and the daily soaps began.

I was a very sensitive child though. There would be times where I would come down with psychosomatic illness… I would work myself into an emotional frenzy, with actual symptoms of illness that were caused by some level of anxiety. On those days I would be dropped (or left) at home with no supervision. I would find my mother’s chocolate stash (while I watched I Love Lucy, natch), give piano concerts for an invisible audience, and serve myself Diet Coke out of the good crystal.

Now I am bundled up on the sofa in a different blanket. I still have that afghan – it is in my closet. My husband is taking excellent care of me. Lots of movies, TV, and fluids. Hopefully this thing will pack its bags and leave soon. Maybe it will leave the moment I stop worrying about work… Which I think is more to the point.

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13 Responses to On Being Sick

  1. Hope you feel better soon! I had a fairly bad Easter holiday, again, the body going break=ill, but I seem to be getting over that now πŸ™‚

  2. Sick is bad, but I love the memories you have! Thank you so much for sharing them ❀ Get well soon…we need more baking done πŸ˜€

  3. I hope you’re feeling better? I’m sorry you were sick. Your description of being sick as a child was very vivid and I could imagine the colored afghan and the I Love Lucy reruns…really well-written. I too as a kid had psychosomatic illnesses…I went to the nurse’s office so many times she never believed me anymore!
    Hope all is well now…Big hugs to you from your fellow New Yorker!

    • The 2nd 35 Years says:

      Thanks! It’s finally making it’s way out! (I was starting to think it wasn’t going away) Yeah… There were times where my gram started showing up with a thermometer, and if I wasn’t running a temperature, it was back to class for me!

      • I’m glad you’re on the mend!
        Lol, I used to carry a thermometer in my backpack! I can imagine your gram with hers in hand!
        Take care and feel better soon so you can bake more sweet treats!

      • The 2nd 35 Years says:

        There will be one on the blog tomorrow! Get your sweet tooth ready!

      • Oh perfect!! I’ll get my cup of coffee ready!

      • The 2nd 35 Years says:

        PS my grandmother was small formidable. Just the sort of person to take no shit from a pseudo-sick kid! 😁

      • LOL! I can imagine…Mine was the same…A tiny Italian nonna who didn’t let anyone get in her way πŸ™‚ And made a pretty amazing cookie too!
        Cheers to our grammies!

      • The 2nd 35 Years says:

        Cheers to them! I miss mine so much! She could cut a person with her looks, which I dare say I inherited from her!

      • Oh cool!!! She taught you well:)
        I miss mine too:( I feel lucky to have had her in my life for so many years though. I never knew my dad’s mom since she died before I was born.
        Here’s to the Grammies in our lives!
        Cheers and buona notte!

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