Curled pathetically in bed, pillows piled up behind my head supporting what surely must be my final few breaths, I squint through gummed-up eyes at the computer screen flickering before me as I unearth first one, then two weakened hands from the mountain of blankets with which I covered myself upon my post-breakfast return to bed, and haltingly begin to type this message. This message – surely my last earthly words; my manifesto – my final contribution before I slip from this world. With all the clarity of the deathbed confessor I see now what I didn’t before and I realise, profoundly, that you were right all along.
I see now that being sick is really shitty.
I’m not talking about terminal cancer sick, or heart disease sick, or dialysis sick, or depression sick. I’m talking about your everyday, run-of-the-mill, head-blocking nose-wiping flu kind of sick, and all the macabre self-pity that accompanies it. Because that, in all its glory, is what has consigned me to bed today, and obviously, I’m dealing with it with the utmost of grace.
The run of good health that has seen me fortunately avoid the kind of illnesses that would legitimately require me to spend the day in bed extends to this kind of flu – even when I do catch something, I’ve always been able to soldier on, going about my day with manic resilience. Caught, no doubt, from my mother, who knocks back a handful of herbal garlic tablets every time she feels a hint of the sniffles and who consequently hasn’t been sick since Britney loved Justin (and then for reasons likely relating to that, rather than ill health), my eternal optimism in the face of illness has lead me to be somewhat intolerant of people who fall down with the flu.
But today, as I scrape another crumpled tissue over my red-raw nose, I understand. To those people I dismissed, to those doctors appointments I derived, to those $12 throat lozengers I railed against, to all sufferers of the common cold, great and small I say this – I’m sorry.
I see now that being sick is really shitty.
My inclination to dismiss sickness took a blow this time because my cold came around when all of my optimism was concentrated on making it through uni exams. Already rallying in the face of fire I took a blow on an uncovered flank; my first indication of man down a scratchy sore throat that didn’t yield, despite my late cavalry of hot tea and early nights. Sensing my vulnerability they hit harder – waves of headaches, tiredness and the atom bomb of illness, the stuffy, constantly dripping nose. I held out until the second beer post-final-exam then I was down – carried wounded by my comrades to the sickbed where I now lie.
Initially frustrated with myself, I tried to pretend I wasn’t sick. I made post-exam plans, I went swimming, I ate dinner, I drank those two damn beers. But last night, after I’d managed only a brief period of respite from watching Girls and clutching a tea mug beneath my blanket fort, a walk downstairs that unfortunately made me feel like I had run like Shoshanna from Ray (or very far very quickly, as if on crack, if you’re that way inclined), I had to realise that I was not ok. I had to realise I was sick; I had to let myself be sick, and that was ok.
I realised that I don’t have to fight against sickness, I don’t have to wear my health as a badge of honour. I don’t have to tell myself I’m not allowed to be sick, not allowed to take care of myself; particularly when this sickness has come about as a direct result of finishing a challenging, exhausting set of exams. I’m tired, I’m sick, and that’s ok.
I feel really shitty, and that’s ok.
So excuse me now, as I withdraw my shaking hands back into my fortress of blankets and self-pity, wish pathetically for someone to bring me more hot drinks, queue another Girls episode (and look online for quirky merchandise), draw my blinds and settle in for the first day I’ve ever allowed myself of medicinal bed rest. And if this is it, if this is the end, I thank you to be kind to each other and if bereavement gifts are appropriate, kindly gift my family this cross stitch from that same episode.
sophie says 