Reason 1: I don’t have enough breath to read my kids a story.
My breath is coming back, but for 9 nights I couldn’t breathe out the simplest story. I’m not even talking some Dr. Seuss tale that tests the dexterity of the most limber tongue; I’m talking reading stories with the simplicity of Good Night Moon. It’s as though Darth Vader invaded my bronchial system. This morning, though, Vivian informed me that she had upgraded my voice to “medium.” Move over Darth Vader; it’s Kermit the Frog’s time.
Reason 2: I feel like a hypochondriac.
Not only have I been to the doctor and various labs a few times, but I also have little else to talk about. Being sick takes self-absorbed to a new level. Thanks to those who endure(d) my tweets and status updates. An even bigger thanks to my husband, who endures my whingeing 24-7.
Reason 3: Daytime TV sucks.
When I’m healthy, I often pine for a few hours in the house by myself. I wax poetic about watching TV and sitting on the deck contemplating life. When you get sick and end up trapped in your house, you realize that what you wished for isn’t so great. I’ve watched a year’s worth of trash TV in the past week. If I hear “dual vanities” or “open floor plan” one more time, I’m going postal with HGTV.
Reason 4: I hate missing work.
I’m a teacher who has never missed a week’s worth of classes in my life, with the exception of an earlier-than-expected mat leave. Early mat leave taught me that I’m dispensible, and I’m okay with that. This experience, however, has reminded me that I enjoy working.
Reason 5: I get stuck in the what-if-it-doesn’t-get-better loop.
When things become unmanageable, my mind tends to get trapped in the is-this-as-good-as-it-gets question. Logically, I know (and am thankful) it isn’t. I’m a proponent of the this-too-will-pass theory, but it’s easier to buy into that when you’re healthy.
So, like most people who’ve been bedridden with pneumonia, I despise the illness. And I’m also very thankful it’s me and not my kids.