Confession: Getting a family over illness is a ten-stage fiasco.
When you are at your sickest, you think, “If I am ever again free from pain, I will be grateful for the rest of my natural days.” And sure enough, upon recovery you go through a deeply grateful phase, in which simply being able to sit up, to move around, to wash a few dishes, to feel rather comfortable, is cause for great hope and celebration. A deeply grateful phase.
Followed by a blah phase, incumbent upon realizing how much work piled up for you while you were out of commission. Your whole house cries for a good shake and a bath, and you sit there avoiding its eyes, wishing for gumption.
Followed by a slight relapse, in which you’re not quite as healthy as you would have hoped; though you are not sure if a) you’re actually worse, or b) you’re overwhelmed, or c) you’re faking it so as to get out of work, or d) your expectations of yourself are changing. Where once you were happy just to get through the day without kicking the bucket, you now expect to be clothed, cooking, and congenial.
After this comes the slightly stronger every day stage. You’ll lick this thing yet.
Followed by a period of disillusionment. Is this really what it feels like to be healthy, and you just forgot? Food always tastes leathery? Prospects are permanently gray? You pulled yourself back from the brink of the grave just for this?
Followed by the mean as poison stage, in which your sunshiny baby cries more often than not, your big boys whine and droop, your patience is on vacation with your baby’s sunshine, and the only option remaining open to you is to be as hateful as possible.
Followed by the pity-me stage, in which you whine to strangers on your blog.
Threaded into, out of and among all these stages are two unending questions: What are you going to cook this time? (mealtimes coming around with distressing promptitude), and Who’s going to get sick next? You are plagued with worry that the one or two charmed family members who miraculously dodged all germs will now get laid low with them, just as the rest of you have at long last turned the corner.
And of course, they do.
This is not cause for cheer.
Concluding analogies:
Ten-stage fiasco : cheer : : snuffer : flame.
: : tissue : snot.
: : TP :
But perhaps we had better end there.
hahaha! As the oldest in a family of 6 kids… I well remember what it’s like for the whole family to get sick. NOT FUN! So you can whine here 😉
I can SO relate to this. That cooking!! It just doesn’t go away, ever. “Clothed, cooking, and congenial”……at least you’re funny when you’re sick/recovering/feeling mean.
Please feel better soon. Completely, sunshinily, back to the kitchen with strength better.
Oh dear. At least you got a pithy blog post written about it. 🙂 Hope all of you feel better soon. We’ve been battling the sickies around here, too, and I’m starting to wonder if they’ll ever go away.
…and the sniffling nose, nagging cough that I took to PA outlasted the 7 hrs on the toilet, and 24 hrs in bed with the covers pulled over my head, the churning of the tummy for at least 36 hrs after I took 4 immodium AD, and I brought that cold back to Oregon with me…and I’m still blowing my nose, and coughing at night when I’d rather be sleeping! So glad we didn’t bring our bugs over to your house! They’d have been glad to join the ones you’ve got in Western PA! May the New Year kiss you with sweetness, and remind you of the blessings of God! Counting Graces from His hand! Sorry if I shared TMI!!
Shari, you have a way of bringing some of those long ago memories back to life. Praying for you here in the little burgh of Guys Mills.
Shari, I just found our Phase 10 box, with instructions on how to play inside it, but no cards anywhere to be found amongst the games!! I’m wondering what a person does when all the cards are gone! I’m sad, we love that game!