My boyfriend, John, has a very annoying habit. He has two kids, both teens, so he has developed an immunity to weird, child related illnesses. However, he still contracts them from time to time and since he usually sees his son on Thursdays, he sometimes comes and settles in with me and then gets sick over the weekend, during which I take care of him. Tenderly, I might add. I take his temperature and get him glasses of water or tea and make chicken noodle soup from scratch. Because if I don’t, then I am apparently a horrible girlfriend (or person).
On Mondays, John is usually feeling better so jaunts off to work, leaving me to suffer, if I have caught his cold or flu, which I usually have at that point. So then I am left at home, alone, and have to face the wrath of reporting in sick, AGAIN, like I’m a loafer or hypochondriac.
THAT IS SO UNFAIR. There are times, too, that John says, “You might totally get fired.” And I’m like, well, stop getting me sick! And as an aside, WHY DO YOU CARE? If I get fired, it’s my job or gig, right, not yours!! I’ll find another one! ‘EFF OFF!!
Right now, if John is reading this, he’s probably thinking, “She’s making me look so unfeeling, I do pamper her when she’s sick, why is she making me look like an asshole?”
And he would be right. He is caring and helpful and nice when I’m sick (I love you, John! Kiss kiss!). But right now I feel like shit and want to be unreasonable and and blame everyone around me for every bad thing that has happened to me over my lifetime.
Please keep in mind that I feel awful right now and when I do, my irascibility and temper goes up a few – okay, many – notches. The surefire way that you can tell when I’m truly sick is when I lash out at people and yell at them (weakly, from my bed or couch, but with enormous intent!). Sometimes I throw things like my head compress at my caretaker, if I think he is hovering over me too much. GET the ‘EFF AWAY ALREADY! I’m not dying!! I’m just sick!!
No, I’m not a pleasant convalescent. Did I say I was? Because obviously I’m totally not. I get pissy and throw fits because I cannot abide the fact that my body is letting me down and preventing me from doing stuff I want to do. Stupid body!! Goddamn microbes!
I didn’t develop and shore up my white blood cells like John did, through years of exposure to kid-germs. Yet here I am suffering from the consequences of them!! Argh! I would be more frustrated, but I don’t have the energy to be. I just want to trundle off to bed and tuck myself under the comforter (since NOBODY is here to do this for me, fucker! Yeah, I’m talking to you, my significant other, who got me in this condition in the first place! That’s right, let’s take this outside!!!).
I apologize for my indelicate language. I tend to swear A LOT when I’m sick. Maybe it’s because my barriers are lowered so whatever I am thinking in my head actually comes out of my mouth, as opposed to other times, when I am able to exercise some restraint. Right now, I am basically a huge baby thrashing around in frustration at my plight.
This cold I have? It is one of the strangest I’ve ever experienced. I feel high or drunk, but without any of the euphoric benefits, like inexplicable happiness or the giggles. I’m woozy and can’t walk very well and have to peer down at my keyboard to type this post. I can’t navigate heavy machinery (or any at all) and feel all lightheaded and out-of-it, but don’t have the benefit of those transcendent, self-searching philosophical discourses we all engage in when we are in an “altered state of mind”. What is this? I’m all dizzy and dehydrated and sleepy and just, for the love of god, just want to curl up into a ball and hibernate. Or die.
So take my advice. Stay away from me for at least a few more days. It will be safer for you. Health wise. Life wise. For me, too, because I don’t want to go to prison for the homicide of someone who was only trying to comfort me. I am in the midst of a gigantic temper tantrum right now.