Confessions of a Terrible Patient

painting by Christian Krohg

Okay. It's true that I gave Mister Man a terrible time when he was sick. But now I have to come clean and confess that I am an even worse patient. In fact, I'm a self-diagnosed IMPATIENT. For every time that Mister Man rejected any offer of help, I cling, become teary and march around in denial until I'm so woozy that it's either sit down or fall down.

On Friday, I didn't feel well, but I thought that if I was up and at 'em, the icky feeling would wane. So I headed into work, got a bunch of stuff done until mid afternoon when my body finally gave up, and I came creeping home where I tumbled into bed and fell into one of those slumbers of sickness.

And basically, all weekend, I had to miss all manner of fun-stuff and important socializing and WORST OF ALL - PHOTO OPS! I missed the Day of the Dead Memorial on Friday night. I missed the hilarious Halloween party on Saturday night. I missed a fall photo-taking field trip. I spent our early Christmas with the family of Mister Man sitting on the other side of the room in case I was germy. I missed going to the movies. I missed going for a run. And missing stuff is not easy for us Aries types, because we spend our lives AFRAID THAT WE'RE MISSING SOMETHING, let alone KNOWING we're missing stuff. It was hell.

It's so strange that we spend much of our childhood wishing we were sick, hoping for a "get out of jail" card and getting to spend the day at home where the Mums might bring us tomato soup and orange juice.... and if we weren't TOO sick, maybe even a grilled cheese sammich. And we would get to stay under the covers reading Nancy Drew. And then the Mums would come in and put her loving hand on our forehead, and tuck us in so that we were snug as a bug in a rug.....

Nope. Being sick as an adult just means you're missing stuff. Fun stuff.

And Mister Man has made me stay home from work today, because the pattern of this particular strain of whatever it is I have means that I wake up all ready to go. And after about two hours, I fade like a lettuce leaf on a buffet table. So I have a plan. I'm going to bundle up and drive myself to a grocery store where I am going to stock up on things to make myself feel like a human being again: bubble bath, a trashy mag, fruity fruit, homemade chicken noodle soup. And then I'm going to pretend I'm having a vacation in Switzerland, and that I'm all woozy because of the altitude. In other words. I give in. I GIVE IN!!