single and sick

Saturday night

After running my weekend chores, like dropping off dry cleaning and seeing friends for coffee, I felt the need for a late afternoon nap. I began reading from my pile of newspapers that I never have time for and passed out only to be awakened at 3:00 in the morning with horrible chills. Even though I had taken every blanket in the house, including some bath-towels and thrown them over me, nothing seemed to help. By 4:00, I broke down. I called my Mom. After a few good minutes of cooing while listening to me whine and groan into the phone, she suggested I gargle with salt and pull out the Vic’s Vapo Rub. I said goodbye to Mom and was sure that I had the plague and Vic’s Vapo rub just wasn’t going to cut it this time.

Sunday

By noon, I’m quite sure it’s the flu but really didn’t want to go to the doctor, because that would take too long and I never did find a General MD in SF. All I want is some orange juice and Pringles potato chips, but too sick to get out of bed, so I sleep the majority of the day. Mother calls and offers to FedEx a bottle of Vic’s Vapo Rub to my house along with some vitamin C. Hang up on Mother.

Monday

Too sick to go to work. But must go out to get food. I drive to the local grocery store wearing flannel pajama pants, the softest biggest comfy sweater I own and scarf, carrying box Kleenex which I will litter throughout my car. Attempted to drag comb through hair—couldn’t. I buy orange juice and several cans of Cambell’s Chicken with stars soup, cold medicine, two liters of ginger-ale, plus those damn Pringles. I try to find a parking space near my house, but can’t, so I walk two blocks carrying all my crap and watch the mothers pull their children to their sides as I pass. It’s always fun to be mistaken for a transient. I get home and sleep only to take a break to watch a half hour whatever is on TV and there is never anything decent on TV when you are sick.

Tuesday

Still have the plague, but I can at least sit up in bed. The table next to my bed is covered with glasses full of four different kinds of liquid. I’m so sick of liquid. I’m running to the bathroom every twenty minutes. But I do sleep—a lot.

Wednesday

Still pretty sick, but bored out of my brain and actually desperate to get back to work. But my illness isn’t bothering as much as being sick and tired of being sick. I’m sick of watching TV, I’m tired of soup and ginger-ale and sick of my mother calling to recommend mustard plasters and heavens knows what else. Sick of reading, sick of having nothing to do but think, which is just not a good place to be sometimes. And I’m really really sick of my studio apartment, which has that too warm feeling. Even my cat is bored with me and I’m sure when I’m asleep unleashes her pent-up frustration by clawing my furniture.

Thursday

Woke up not sniffling and hot-footed it to work. Happy to return to the living. Happy just to get the hell out.

ANON

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