Hello, world! I'm back

This is my whine: I’ve had walking pneumonia for two weeks, the antibiotics were making me sick, and it hurt to walk because of the fall on my knee. The weather was gloomy, cold and rainy, which didn’t help at all. Yesterday was a low point in my existence.

This is the cheerful part: I woke about three in the morning and thought, “I feel better.” And this morning I felt almost like myself. The sick feeling is almost gone, though I was cautious about eating all day and I still took a long nap, my knee is better if not healed, and I’m not coughing much. The sun is bright and the day much warmer. By the weekend we’ll be in the 80s and we can all begin to moan and groan about summer.

When you’re miserably sick, you can’t imagine ever feeling better. When it’s gloomy and rainy, you can’t imagine it being bright and sunny. And when things do change, it’s sort of like seeing the world with brand new eyes. It makes you appreciative and grateful.

I’m tired of being home, cancelling lunches and dinners with friends. I want to get out in the world and pick up the normal threads of my life. Starting with the grocery store tomorrow.

I have been reading a novel just for the heck of it—something I don’t often find time to do—and I’ve come to a conclusion: I do NOT like rhetorical questions in a cozy mystery. One is too many; lots are lots too many. Shhh—I’ll never tell what I’m reading.

Housebound

I could get into this business of being sick--or semi-sick. As I wrote that, I realized that there are so many who are desperately ill that my light-hearted approach will seem heartless and, believe me, I don't mean it that way. But a today at home has been lovely. Walking pneumonia gave me all kinds of excuses for not doing things I didn't want to, like going out in a chilly rain. And it let me throw work to the winds and spend the morning leafing through my appalling collection of recipes, though that was kind of strange since I have no appetite. Still, several events loom on my culinary horizon and I was able to start picking possible recipes. This Sunday, I'll cook for Elizabeth and a friend--she has requested chili, and until today I'd have said the weather is too hot. But chili would be so good right now. She's brought gluten-free cornbread mix, and we'll have salad and guacamole with chips.
In mid-April, special friends are coming--the girl I grew up next door to and haven't seen in fifty years, with her husband, and we'll be joined for lunch by mutual friends from here in town. I want it to be a really special lunch, not overwhelming, light and spring-like, just the right dish. I'm working on it.
And then a few nights later, I'll cook the entree for a welcome-new-neighbor dinner for about twelve--vacillating between crockpot barbecue, chicken tetrazini, and a couple of other choices. I love going through recipes. One file I searched today is my "Entrees Never Tried" and as I went through I was heartless about discarding things I'd never cook. Reduced the file a great deal, a good thing since it was growing out of bounds. Too easy to snip something from a magazine and slide it in there. I have to think through whether or not I'd really cook that...and for who? (whom?)
Then there was napping, some sorting of papers on my desk, writing two guest blogs...oh, yes, I kept busy, didn't malinger in bed all day, though I did have a good nap. My biggest problem is that when I lie down, I start to cough. With 7-UP, cough drops, and some liquid that is supposed to help me sleep, it still takes a while. But, thank heaven, when I sleep, I do it soundly.
Tonight I made ham salad--so much ham left over--and ate a bit of leftover potato salad and fruit salad. They're both almost gone. Another good aspect to this: I've lost five pounds. But that, I know, will come back quickly.
And by tomorrow, I'll be ready to get back to the world. It's supposed to continue raining...oh, well.

Waltzing Mathilda...no, that's not right

Walking Pneumonia, not Waltzing Mathilda--that's what I have. An insult to me, who claims to never get sick. My mom had a philosophy: if you woke up not feeling well, you just got up and went about your day and pretty soon you felt a lot better. I applied that to my kids so much that one friend complained that they had to have a 105 fever before I let them stay home from school. But they are healthy people today! I remember once when Jamie was six or seven and given to dizzy spells that no one could diagnose, he told me he was too dizzy to get out of bed. "Nonsense," I said as I hauled him to his feet. "See? You're just fine." Then I let go and he crumped in a pile on the floor.
Well that's sort of what happened to me. For six days I kept telling myself this deep cough would get better; indeed I was improving. But this morning at five after a sleepless night I suddenly decided that was hogwash and it was time for the doctor to confirm my own diagnosis: walking pneumonia. I blustered through a long morning in the doctor's office, an x-ray clinic and finally a pharmacy, but I could feel I was losing it. I left the prescriptions at a pharmacy by Jordan's office so she could easily pick them up and went home to bed.
Jordan did pick up the medicine, 7-Up, cough drops, soup, saltines, etc. and came and tucked me in. Then she got Jacob from school, which I had until noon been prepared to do and discovered I had no more stamina for that than for running around the block. She takes good care of me, and I am most grateful.
Coming home at noon was a changing moment: I went from carrying on for the world to being sick and treating myself like an invalid, which I guess I'll do for the next couple of days. Slept all afternoon, got up for a couple of hours, and crept back to bed. Now I've been up an hour and a half, and I'm about to go back to bed, armed with cough drops, 7-Up, and a syrup that is supposed to help me sleep.
In a way, it's kind of nice. I can do this in-and-out-of-bed thing for a couple of days--reading, writing, sleeping. And yet I've ignored all the work that's piled on my desk in favor of reading a mystery. Tomorrow I may do a little menu planning--though I'm not much interested in food right now, and I may get back to the book I was almost finished editing and the guest blog I need to write.
Maybe there's something to giving in and occasionally admitting that you really don't feel well--as long as it doesn't become a habit.