When you’re a kid, being sick is awesome. After all, you get to stay home from school on a weekday. You get to watch TV. You get to read. Being sick as a kid is like nature decided to give you a vacation. Sure you might throw up and coughing stinks, but who cares! You’re sick!
When you’re an adult, being sick doesn’t rank among the worst things imaginable yet ordinary, it takes the crown. Staying home sick from work actually stinks because your work goes to someone else. If you have any ethics, you want to be present to do your job. Furthermore, you have the joy of being n adult so the fun things you usually get to do as an adult like drive around town before/after work are out.
And all of this pales next to the real hell: being sick itself.
I’ve been sick twice this season. The first time was a flu that bound me to bed with a lot of sleeping. Unfortunately, a day into the bug Amanda also caught it. That made our house “fun”. The second was a stomach virus last week that was less than fun. So much nausea.
Being sick is the removal of homeostasis from my life. If my body is functioning, I’m able to keep going. My mind is ever driven after all. But being sick takes that away. I can’t focus. Everything around me distracts. My senses are either up or down. I ache. Nausea is the ultimate worst. It’s both disgusting and painful. I can’t eat then.
Here’s the weirdest worst part: I develop intense focus in this moment. I want it to end so badly I focus on how I feel at every second, waiting, hoping for it to end. I’m grasping for signs the nightmare will stop. I might even fake it a bit only to relapse. I forget how well feels.
So it goes. I don’t know how long it will last. It feels eternal. It’s usually 72 hours or so. In time, I do slowly heal. Eventually homeostasis returns. And in time, I will forget about the agony. Then I start coughing.