Kegels, Colds & Emotional Support Potato Chips
Starting the new year with a rotten respiratory virus is never fun, but if you’ll allow me to be complain-y for a minute, having a rotten respiratory virus for three weeks is sucky to the extreme.
This stupid illness (thank you, either grandchildren or Disney World) has taken my average everyday 60-year-old discomfort and cranked it up to Pray For Relief And/Or Death level. I’m officially longing for the days when tight hamstrings after exercise class were the most annoying physical symptom I had to deal with.
Also, because we’re all friends here, I’m just going to go ahead and say this: I now fully understand the benefit of doing Kegels on a regular basis. It’s got to be better than having furiously cross your legs or grab your crotch like Michael Jackson each time you feel a coughing spell coming on.
In case you’re wondering, and to erase that visual, I’m going to tell you how I’m starting to feel a little better. Although I did say that last week, it feels different this time. Apparently, the actual virus is gone, but now I’m dealing with laryngitis AND a sinus infection. I’m still tired, but not achy, and I’m still coughing, but it’s coming from my throat and not my chest. I can talk today in a squeaky voice instead of not at all. Apparently, that is progress.
Let me tell you, laryngitis is no picnic. I have to mime everything to Bill, and either I’m bad at miming, or he’s clueless, but he understands nothing I’m trying to convey. Sometimes when he talks to me, he shouts like I’m deaf and not mute, and other times, if I whisper something, he whispers back like we’re passing classified secrets. Yesterday morning, to be a smartass, and because I’m really, really, really, really bored, I took out my granddaughter’s whiteboard/easel and spelled out FEED ME! in magnetic toddler letters. Bacon! Waffles! Hint! Hint!
During the day, I’ve formed a bed nest with my favorite blanket, piles of tissues, and various salty snacks. I will remain here until I’m well. So far this week, the only things I’ve done besides nesting have been napping, texting friends, and mouthing DAMMIT! after every side-splitting coughing fit, a behaviour I would find especially annoying if exhibited by the other person in this household. Speaking of this household, I actually ventured out of the bedroom today, and OMG, the state of this house! It looks like pigs live here. And hoarders. And lazy people who leave the laundry hanging half in and half out of the dryer. And don’t even get me started on the dishes piled in the sink. Does anyone have a maid they can share, a dog that can lick the crumbs off the floor, or, at the very least, a way to get Bill to lift a finger?
In conclusion, I’m unwell and being dramatic. This has been a brutal three-week whole-body takeover that has left me exhausted and hacking into my bowl of emotional support potato chips. But I am committed to recovery with medicine, snacks, and naps. I’m giving myself permission to rest without guilt, be unproductive without apology, and trust that eventually this sh*t will pass.