I think somewhere within me I have a country song
that starts "Tired of being tired, sick of being sick." Any sense of
how the song would go beyond that is depressing and awkwardly rhymed, which I
guess is why I assume it would be country.
When I wrote about the cellulitis flare-up I
mentioned that a cold had settled in. I was irritated to be sick on Sunday
again, because I had just missed church for my leg. Maybe I could have done it
the week before. I mean, I was in some pain and on orders to lay low, but at
least that is definitely something that is not contagious. Still, it seemed
prudent to get a sub that first week, I did, and then the next week I was
sicker, but differently, and stayed sicker. One of the things nursery parents
compliment me on is my consistency, and I just missed my third week in a row.
The cold kept getting worse. At first it was just a
bad cough and tiredness, but there was progress. After a few days of being
unproductive, the cough turned productive. Okay, we are on our way out. Fewer
coughing fits - though some still strong enough to pull muscles - is progress.
In the meantime, I keep resting. Fine, I get it.
Losing my voice has made me think that maybe I did
not, in fact, get it.
Here is a fun fact about laryngitis: you can have it
up to two weeks before you need to see a doctor about it.
This does not appear to be anything worse than a bad
cold. I had one once that lasted for a month. It picked up a nasty secondary
infection, but even when antibiotics cleaned up those symptoms, the cold
thrived for the entire month. I don't have a fever, there's no chest pain or
difficulty breathing, I just can't get rid of this stupid cough or talk.
I don't even have to look for deeper meaning in it.
I know that walking around with the shard of glass in my foot for three weeks
did a number on my immune system, or I wouldn't have had the cellulitis
flare-up. The antibiotics for that could have knocked out some other things. A
nasty cold settling in makes perfect sense without needing to send a message.
Except it has been terribly obvious how much my
family depends on me and expects me to be able to answer them, regardless of
how hard answering is. I have still had to explain many things to my mother,
and then fill in my sisters, even though it was a three-day weekend, and
everyone was home. It's not that they don't care that I am sick, but they are
used to me being able to do it. I am competent and patient and good at stuff,
but if I try and do it all it will kill me. That won't be good for anyone.
So I think there are some lessons in this phase of
illness too, and I need to figure them out. It's not even about letting other
people do things for me now, but it is going to have to be about telling people
what they have to do. It will have to go beyond doing things myself because
they are easier. I have to sort that out.
I want my voice back.
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