My first inclination when I get sick is to blame something I ate. I keep eating my own cooking after all these years (some days with better success than others) – so I always suspect food poisoning first. I saw a plaque in a catalog recently that said, “Many people have eaten my cooking and gone on to live normal lives.” Yes indeed, that is the plaque for me. I have had no casualties, but I can’t help but wonder whenever I am feeling green around the gills if it is the result of one of my culinary attempts.
Not so this time. I suspect it was the flu. The splitting headache endures today but the dizziness and nausea has dissipated. Thank goodness as I have no time for illness presently. Headaches are semi-manageable, but that falling down and throwing up stuff strikes me as a fairly consequential impediment to going about my daily activities. Plus, the pasty, sickly look I acquire when ill is really quite unattractive.
Sarah had to take her sister Cheyenne to school on Wednesday as I didn’t believe I could manage being a coherent driver (I couldn’t even manage sitting up). I did my weekly radio conversation about my blog with Bruce Kelly (which happened to be about caged underwear) lying sprawled out on my bed. That was one day that I certainly had a face – indeed a whole look – made for radio. Then I had to call in and participate in my department meeting via telephone…seriously…the whole day struck me as an exercise in being pitiful. I looked and felt like hell on Wednesday, but I survived and the next day I felt a bit better. Thank goodness as I am not a good sick person – I have no patience for it.
I am my father’s daughter. My dad doesn’t have a lot of patience for being sick either. My dad went in for surgery on Wednesday, but because I have been ill I couldn’t go to the hospital to see him until day. The kids have been going and keeping me updated.
While my dad’s initial surgery went well, since then there have been a series of problems. My dad is growing weary of it. He has needles and tubes going every which way and as I type this tonight he is being readied for another surgery to address some unexpected blood clots. I am a little worried. Two surgeries in three days for a man in the new sixty who has already had some other issues since the first surgery seems like a lot.
I guess all I can do is pray that it will all turn out alright. I guess I could also steer clear from cooking for him. On days like today I wish that my cooking was the worse malady folks had to face in life…as I know how to cure that – order in. Unfortunately, some things are not that easily solved.
Day four hundred and ninety-four of the new forty – obla di obla da