Thursday, September 10, 2009
Your Hero Faints
I've had a run of bad luck, health-wise. I recently said to Shiloh that the day I start talking about my "health problems" will be a bad day indeed.
But, facts are facts.
And, the fact is, I've had this rattling cough for who knows how long.
Let's get down to brass tacks. People are not nice to people with chest rattling coughs in public. Not that I blame them, that's just how it is. And you can only not take it personally for so long.
I've rested, I've taken days off work, I've laid on the couch and watched endless episodes of Murder, She Wrote. And your dirty looks aren't making it go away any faster.
And then, on Tuesday, I was poisoned by a hamburger. My sister, Annie, wondered if it was on purpose. It probably was. That hamburger was a thug.
Tuesday night it occurred to me that things felt, off, somehow.
Little did I know I was in for a very rough 24 hours.
It could be worse, I know. My pal Sara had her appendix out yesterday, and Shiloh spent the morning texting me the symptoms, in case I had it too. Sara and I did go camping together. Maybe it's more contagious than you all think.
The fact of the matter is, I think I'm going to have to change the way I see myself. I can no longer reflect on my many years of stalwart good health. I can no longer say about myself (as I have done, many, many times) that I have the constitution of an ox (seriously, I say it all the time).
I now have to associate myself with large eyed, underfed, Dickens-type orphans, prone to consumption. Pale, corseted, 19th century women given to collapsing unexpectedly onto tufted couches.
Running shoes, goodbye. Smelling salts, hello.