I don't get sick very often. But when I do, I coddle myself: I cease all activity and cancel commitments right and left. I see absolutely no reason to inflict myself (and my germs) on healthy innocents. (And I resent people who, in illness, inflict themselves on me, or the public at large.)
Sometime during Wednesday night, I came down with a cold. The next morning I bailed on my weekly Norwegian lesson and, later, lunch with a friend. And a short while ago I called Charlene to ask if we could reschedule the photo show yet again (see posts 33 & 34): not only do I have a cold, but the paper I ordered last week hadn't arrived, so I hadn't been able to print. However, she beat me in terms of tales of woe: a gall bladder emergency that took her to the hospital earlier this week and now has her confined to bed.
Should my relief at hearing that she, too, is indisposed make me feel guilty? After all, I'm just uncomfortable; she is in pain.
I am now hunkered down on the bedroom couch, surrounded by books—Thomas McGuane's new collection of short stories, an account of the WWII incarceration of Japanese Americans at Camp Minidoka in Idaho, How to Read a Poem by Edward Hirsch, The Year of the Hare by Arto Paasilinna in Norwegian (and on my iPad, in English), The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison (essays), Norwegian dictionaries, my writers journal, my phone. I am set. And with any luck I'll get a nap in, since last night's was a terrible sleep.
Meanwhile, the shipment of paper arrived. I hope that's a good sign for my speedy recovery. Everything back on track.
2 comments:
hope you are feeling better!!
not sure if you are busier in or out of bed….
Post a Comment