It was one thing to murmur “What day is it?” during the fuzzy nobody-knows-what-day-it-is between Christmas and New Year’s Day.
It was actually a good time to be sick, in a way. No one was working, so there wasn’t an urgency for *me* to be working. In terms of getting sick when you’re self-employed, the timing was quite smart.
Except I didn’t know what day it was leading up to Christmas, either. Or now.
I felt yucky during my annual freelance Christmas party — which feels like a lifetime ago — and it only got worse.
That’s really saying something, too, since I was taken down by The Worst Stomach Virus I’ve Ever Had just the week before, and missed both kids’ Christmas concerts. Whomp, whomp.
There was The Worst Stomach Virus and then The Terrible Head Cold, except the Terrible Head Cold never went away. It still hasn’t. Oh, what a time for my doctor to be on Christmas vacation. (And the idea of sitting at a walk-in with the kids in tow … I can’t finish the sentence. It makes me too tired.)
It’s left me in a permanently dazed, rumpled, half-awake state. My throat is always sore, and that’s when I’m taking Advil. (Without Advil, I cry when I swallow.) I want to stick icicles in my throbbing ears, which is a troubling visual — a new one for me. I flop around all night because my head hurts no matter which way I angle it on a pillow. Don’t get me started on the hacking cough, which makes my head feel like it’s going to explode.
The Christmas vacation is almost over, and it’s been a dreamy blur of huddling myself in quilts and moving from the bed to the couch to the armchair. On good days, I moved to the folding chair at my sewing machine and mindlessly made clothes while binge-watching Project Runway.
Much of the world is “back at ‘er” today, because it’s January 2 and the holidays are officially over. But sitting here at the desk is something I can’t do for more than a few minutes at a time. My Facebook feed is full of inspiring “18 for 2018” lists — resolutions and goals up the wazoo — and I can’t scroll for long without closing my eyes and listening to (yet another) audiobook.
V. sorry to start 2018 on such a complain-y note, dear readers. But this is where I’ve “been” over the break, and I’m really hoping to kick this sickness SOON. Maybe then I can join everyone in their excitement for a fresh new year with new opportunities.
Maybe then I can imagine a future where I wear something other than pyjamas — a future where I don’t startle myself every time I look at my pale, yellow-tinged face in the mirror.