Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Ain't no Cure for the Summertime ... Flu?

I dunno, maybe it's just a nasty, nasty cold, or some kinda other virus, but it turns out that those crazy Harry Potter dreams were not just book inspired, since in the intervening four cough/ sinus/fever/nausea-pocked days, I've had some crazy dreams about much less fanciful things.

Turns out the cold that Rambunctious brought home is harder on the grown-ups. Friday and Sunday (far less on Saturday and Monday) were rough days indeed, and last night Willow found herself laid low by the bug. Rambunctious has bee runny-nosed and coughing for about ten days, now, though the only other signs he's exhibiting are some late-in-the-day cranky-pantedness.

I hate being sick, not just because, you know, I'm sick, but because I can't contribute to the running of the house and all. I remember an incident when I was, say, 16, and I was supposed to go help my dad chop some wood for our woodstove. He came in to get me that morning, and I was all, "I don't feel good." I recall him being miffed, because he suspected (not without cause) I was playing sick to get out of manual labor. But it turned out that I had a fever of, like, 103, and really didn't feel good. Nonetheless, the lesson that illness makes you a burden was internalized (And thus disability studies and disability activism finds its basis).

Couple this with the fact that my (chronically ill) mom complains that my dad is a big baby when he gets sick, and this is decidedly something I do not want to be, and you have a mindset: "When you get sick, soldier on--don't let anyone fuss over you and don't slow down."

The problem is I AM a big baby, and this attitude invariably culminates in me overdoing it and needing to completely disappear for a while. Couple this with the fact that I get weepy when I have a fever, and you see the problem...

On Sunday afternoon, I woke up from a nap with a fever, hung a new curtain rod and some curtains, resorted the silverware drawer with a new organizer purchased that morning, and then (surprise) felt woozy enough that it was hard to stand up. So I disappeared back into the bedroom to lay down just as the kids were getting up and moving after naptime.

Now, Willow is in bed, and I'm trying to keep her there, mostly because I'd need someone to keep me there. But she knows...she's sick. She'll stay in bed until she's feeling well enough to get up.

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