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Down in Fever: There's a bright side to being sick
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Published: October 26, 2009
One of the great things about a fever is that it makes being sick official.
As miserable as you may feel when you're just run-down and achy, you may still feel compelled to get on with the business of taking care of stuff you're supposed to do.
Once a fever arrives, though, you have carte blanche to lay low.
My fever arrived on a Saturday afternoon. The package included a sore throat, body aches and the desire to have my head no higher than my feet. What is euphemistically called a "productive" cough soon added to the "woe is me" drama.
I have mixed feelings about getting sick on a weekend. On the one hand, it shoots a perfectly good weekend. On the other, you don't have to worry about calling work to say you're not coming in.
Staying in
Thanks to all the hubbub around the H1N1 virus, I knew that medical professionals were recommending doing your part to contain the swine flu by not going to the doctor's office and coughing on poor innocents. So, initially, that was the path I took. (After eight days of fever, I decided it was time to go in.)
My wife, Garnet, got sick about the same time I did, and Sparkle Girl joined the club on Monday night. So, for a few weekdays, the big decisions of the day revolved around Garnet and me comparing symptoms when it was time to drop off or pick up Doobins from kindergarten to determine who felt less bad in the moment.
We were so sick that, once we ran out of half-and-half, Garnet and I used 2-percent milk in our morning coffee for two days because neither of us could bear the thought of stepping inside a grocery store. I understand that some people will say, "What's the big deal?" I'm speaking to those who will say, "How could they have survived such an ordeal?"
As physically miserable as I was, though, the fact of the matter is that, in some respects, I had a really good time being sick.
Chance to unwind
For one, it has been ages since I shut down. For a long time now, I have been wound up about all sorts of things -- the health of my mother, the health of my 17-year-old dog, the abyss facing the newspaper industry, whether individually wrapped slices of American cheese are as bad for you as I suspect they are.
Plus, there is always something I feel as if I should be doing. A year after the hinges to two kitchen-cabinet doors broke, I have yet to replace them, and I have no hope of ever getting my to-do list back to a single page.
For a few days there, I could certainly remember everything that I normally fret about but I didn't have the energy to give any of it serious attention.
"I'll worry about that when I feel better," I would think when some everyday botheration would cross my mind. I would watch the thought float off and get back to reading my Daniel Silva novel or wondering whether I had enough energy to get up off the couch and walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and, if I did, whether it would be worth the effort to add ice cubes.
Plus, it was wonderful to have company.
For many years, it was just me and His Dogness, and, when I got sick, it was lonely. This time, three of us were sick together, and, when Doobins came home from school, he would lift our spirits by heading to his Lego workshop and whipping up a creation for us to admire.
My body paid a high price -- more than once I coughed so hard I couldn't catch my breath -- but, for a while there, it was the best vacation my head has had in quite some time.
kunderwood@wsjournal.com
727-7389
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