Unwell

Dearest Rachel –

I had a topic prepared to tell you about, based on something I did yesterday morning (and previously) and its ramifications, but the way I’m feeling right now, this is probably more… current. I can probably rework what I’d planned to write you to say ‘the other day’ rather than ‘yesterday’ when I actually get around to putting that thing together; some topics just aren’t as urgent as others are.

You see, last night, as we were heading to the folks for our usual Thursday night dinner, I was beginning to feel a little congested. At the time, I didn’t think all that much of it; if nothing else, the fact that my left ear has been plugged up (even though my doctor can’t see anything in there – no wax buildup or anything like that) for the past few weeks, has meant that I felt that way most of the time. So I hadn’t yet put together the possibility that I might be getting sick.

The fact that I had a good appetite (because who doesn’t enjoy my mom’s cooking?) also gave me no clues as to what was going on inside me. Normally, when you’re truly sick, you have to be prodded to eat, as the last thing on your mind is food. But that wasn’t a real problem for me last night; while I didn’t eat as much as Daniel did (because he doesn’t eat anything all day prior to going out to the folks, and I at least had had breakfast), I still managed to enjoy two helpings of Swedish meatballs and potato casserole. So you wouldn’t have been able to tell from how I was at the table that anything untoward was creeping up on me.

Actually, that’s not quite true. For some reason, no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop yawning in the middle of our table conversation. I’m not sure that I actually felt tired as such, but clearly something was a little off already. More on that later, because whatever I’m dealing with has a rather perverse sense of humor.

***

It’s at this point I should put down a little aside to let you know that this letter isn’t meant to be a complaint. You might remember how your folks would talk at the breakfast table about their various aches and pains from time to time – I used to refer to them as ‘organ recitals,’ as they would go over in detail as to which ones were hurting, and how, at any given time – and I’m not trying to do that. I may be venting about how I feel to a certain extent , but that’s not the main point of why I’m telling you about this. The thing is, when you’re feeling healthy, you forget what it was like to be sick. You don’t remember that sensation of your face blowing up like a balloon, or the pressure on and around your eyes. It’s one of those many unpleasant experiences of life that, once it’s over, you forget all about it, and enjoy your health once again. Considering where you are now, and the fact that you will never experience aches or pains, or anything like that, ever again, this is just a reminder for both of us.

Not that I’m trying to bring you down or anything like that. But sometimes, you need to remember just how bad things can be (even though whatever it is I’m dealing with right now is such a small thing) in order to truly appreciate when things are good. We often forget what good times are like (and how good we truly have things, as a general rule) without a basis of comparison. And a quick reminder, like the details of an illness, isn’t entirely a bad thing, but a good reminder to be grateful for when things are going our way, rather than complaining about the fact that they could always be just that little bit better. I’d make a political comment here, but I think you could fill in the blanks on your own.

***

Apart from my serial yawning, the evening passed more or less without incident. Daniel and I rolled the garbage out for Mom and Dad, as we always do on our way out, and headed home. It was at this point that the sensation of congestion began to move from being only by my ear to right behind my eyes, and I began to question whether having been there for dinner had been a good idea. After all, Dad was going for a surgical procedure on Monday, and needed to quarantine himself in the 24 hours leading up to then, so I was already thinking about the possibility of having exposed him to whatever it was I had.

And that’s another thing about getting sick in this day and age. Is this a cold, or is this Covid? There’s a certain level of paranoia about what it is that I might be dealing with. To be sure, Covid at this point feels no different from getting a regular garden-variety cold; it’s not something I’m worried will carry me off (if I ever was – I think even as the Medical Curtain was coming down in March of 2020, I recall us talking to Twofeathers about it, and I dismissed it as sounding like something little worse than the seasonal flu). True, I’m over fifty, as well as over 250 pounds, both of which would consider me to be ‘at risk’ to a certain extent, but I’m not that far past the former, and as for the latter… give me another week of working out (which is a lot harder when I’m feeling like this, granted), and I think I’ll finally be back under that threshold, too.

But it’s the folks I’m particularly worried about. I can’t go back over there and risk exposing them to whatever it is I might have; indeed, there’s reason to worry about the effects of last night, although that can’t be helped at this point. What’s done is done. I left some actual work behind there, but I don’t dare go over; I may just send Daniel to pick up what I need, so I can actually get something done beyond the usual creation of this or that picture of you in a situation you were never in (or, in some cases, we never thought to take a photo of).

In the meantime, I may try and get myself some more sleep; for all the yawning I did last night, I could not fall asleep for more than an hour or two once I was safely ensconced in my bed. One more thing to miss about being unwell as opposed to being healthy; you don’t get a decent night’s sleep, no matter how much you need it. Of course, that’s probably not a problem for you, as there is no night where you are, or so I’m told, so you don’t have the need to sleep in the first place. Considering how you would always defy the Sandman in life, I’m not sure whether that’s more appropriate or ironic.

Anyway, honey, keep an eye on me, as I try to recover, and wish me luck toward that end. I’m going to need it.