I had a stomach bug yesterday. I always say I’d rather give birth than, well, you know what you do when you have a stomach bug..the word that starts with “V” (or if you are being crude, “P.”)
I had three babies without so much as an aspirin with the Lamaze method (and two were just under 9 pounds!) and I would still rather pop them out then disgorge the contents of my stomach in such a noisy, unlady-like fashion.
As I was laying in bed, I started thinking about the stuff I do when I’m sick. Frequently, it’s the only time I ever do these things. And I realized how really silly some of my “I’m Sick” routines are. Hence the title for this blog.
First off, I have to have one certain blanket. It’s a beautiful pink, beige and green corduroy patchwork quilt with hand sewn ducks that a very good friend made for me some 20 years ago as a housewarming gift. After using it innumerable times, we moved and our colors and decor changed, so it got put away. After that, it only came out when I didn’t feel well…or the heat didn’t work. It was such a popular item in our house, it was one of the things that was “discussed” when we were dividing our assets during the divorce. I caught the ex in a weak moment and he surrendered it, but I don’t think he did it all that willingly. I moved it with me in the car when driving cross-country (just in case I broke down in a desert somewhere) and now keep it in the guest room dresser. I immediately went up there to get it this morning after my first ride on the porcelain bus.
I must wear flannel pajamas. I own one pair, only flannel lined, and they only come out when I’m feeling off. I don’t necessarily have to have chills and it could be 85 degrees outside, but when I’m down, the flannel pj’s come up. I can’t wear the all flannel type because to me it’s like sleeping in a velcro suit. I can’t toss and turn without worrying that the friction between my nightwear and the sheets will cause me to set myself on fire. And I am a tosser and turner.
Then there’s tea. I never drink tea. I’m a died-in-the-caffeine coffee drinker. I only drink tea when I’m not feeling up to par. I could go months and months without a cuppa and as soon as something hits me I’m a cartoon character in the pantry tossing things all over til I find that little yellow and red box, which is probably 10 years old. I think I had it in New Jersey, before I moved.
I whine when I’m sick. I’m not usually a whiner, but I whine to everyone I talk to when I am feeling under the weather. I speed-dialed MOTNSO (“More Often Than Not Significant Other”) who lives 40 miles away and started in at 9 a.m. this morning. “I’mmmmm siiiiiiiccccckkkkk…my stommmmmaccccchhhhhh hurrrrrrtttsssss.” God bless him, he asked what he could do for me. That was all I had to hear. Someone was sympathetic to my terrible predicament of being alone and ill. I stopped whining and said “Nothing, thanks. I’ll talk to you later…” and hung up.
Ice water. After tea, I have to have glass after glass of ice water. It makes no sense. But my body just actually craves frigid liquid to be poured down my esophagus and shock my gurgling gastrointestinal system.
The next thing is my hair. Whenever I am sick I refuse to brush it and generally stick a couple of banana clips in it to keep it off my feverish forehead. I think that somewhere in my childhood I must have been running a high temperature and it hurt when I brushed my hair. That fear has stuck with me all these years. No hairbrush near my (artificial) golden locks…and most certainly not a comb.
Soup. I rarely, rarely have soup. When I’m sick, I consume it by the gallon. Any kind. Any brand. Even the chemicals that you add water to and it becomes a “Cup-a-Soup.” I slosh it down, sometimes adding a cracker or two just to see if it will hold.
TCM and A & E are on the TV all day. I can never watch enough old movies when I’ve got some bug running around inside my body. I think I just am so distracted by the black and white that I don’t think about not feeling well and sometimes become bored and doze off. I actually own a bunch of old movies, but it’s too much trouble to put a DVD in because “I donnnnnn’t feeeeeeelllllll wellllllllll.” (Yes, I even whine when talking to myself.)
Anyway, whatever bug I had this morning seems to have passed. Actually, it was a good thing to have happen because I was at a total loss for blog material this week. Once again, something good comes out of something bad…one of my personal mantras. May the disgusting germ that found me pass you by…and nothing bad come out of you.