I have spent the past week spitting painfully into a smiths bag from my bedside. I have missed work and some appointments and general life activity. Bad enough to miss things needlessly, but to make it worse I have felt very poor. I remember thinking “I haven’t been sick like this since I was a kid.”

I contemplated on my bedridden condition. Thoughts I’ve had plenty of times before when sick. The usual taking for granted of the ability to breath, to swallow, to lay comfortably, or walk to the fridge without running out of breath. And all of this with the aid of modern over the counter cold medicine, fluffy modern beds and blankets, air conditioning, a room humidifier, access to food delivery and on-demand soup from my mom. All that and I was still miserable. And I’ve shit myself twice. So far.

I get headaches a lot. And every time I wonder how non-modern humans didn’t perish from the malaise and pain, or simply kill themselves knowing there was no ibuprofen in the cabinet. How did John Keats do it? How did the European plague victims do it? How did those wives brought out to the dry west for the dry air do it, waiting day after day in their outside bedrooms? I still had the comfort of knowing that every few hours I could re-up on the Dayquil and that no matter what in a few days I would begin to feel better.

Except I did not. The fever raged on. The cough worsened. The sore throat began to resist the medication medley. The body ached. I felt as though my skin was too hot over my cold muscle and that if I were to move too aggressively my outer layers would peel off like a blanched tomato. I would sleep only for an hour or two at a time before waking as if I was joking. My throat and nose so dry that a swig of water would burn like it was boiling. I went through three tissue boxes, and a jar of Vicks vapor rub. I showered or bathed 3 times a day as hot as I could manage. And when I awoke with red sclera in my eye and the lids caked over in crusties, reminding me of that episode of Code Name Kids Next Door where they all get pink eye, I had had enough.

I went to the doctor. They seemed surprised at my condition and both the nurse and the doctor winced when they inspected my tonsils. The strep test came up negative, but apparently it only tests for 1/3 types of strep. I was scolded for being a nail biter. Who knows what I may have introduced via my lifelong habit. At least I’m not a smoker? I was prescribed a steroid and an anti biotic, but NOT amoxicillin. In the case that I have Mono, I would risk a nasty rash. I pray these take effect soon. I hope not to take much more time off from work. Or miss any fun. Or feel like this much longer.

Time for a switch up.

The first of my good close friends is getting married this summer. They have a beautiful and healthy relationship. I love my friend and I have come to love his fiancé as well. Of anyone I know I do know that they will do very well. However, sometimes you just get sick. While I have been sick I have noticed my reluctance or refusal to perform everyday tasks or things I usually liked to do given the time. The thought of brushing my teeth revolts me. I have been rude and wrathful to my loved ones and friends. I just don’t care. I am so caught up in my own bad feeling that the world around me is black and blue.

Disease or injury or everyday flu may strike and that would affect not only you but your partner. I could not imagine kissing someone. Holding their hand. Asking about their day. In this state I am selfish and bitter. And they might not want to be around my infected ass. Sometimes too, relationships get sick. Your usual mode and attitude towards your partner might catch a cold. I think that’s why one of the traditional vows is to be faithful to your partner in both sickness and health. We have many modern luxuries that we rely on everyday. When those dissolve or your own health may fail. And even when things are bad or change, you must remain faithful and loving to your partner? That is probably one of the most difficult things one can do in their life. It is a vow you really have to mean and take seriously. And I don’t think many people treat their wedding vows like they should. You are swearing. You are taking an oath. You are making a promise. You are taking up a lifelong responsibility and commitment. I think most people acknowledge this in the back of their mind, but much of what people do is based primarily on feeling. Whether or not they feel in love, or feel like they want to maintain a marriage. Somewhere there has been a disconnect. Some people don’t take it as seriously as they should. Love isn’t always a feeling.

And yet, I know that my friend is more than capable to take up the challenge.

One day, I hope to be as strong and sure in someone as he is.

Anyway I’m tired of tossing his salad. I still feel like shit and have no one but my brother’s blue-heeler/chihuahua mix dog is here to yap at me. The steroids are doing something for me at least.