Bruce came home with a nasty cold. At least I think it was a cold.
He rarely gets sick so I figured he’d be right as rain in a couple of days. But then the dreaded cough started. Bruce has the loudest cough in the animal kingdom. The walls of the house shake when he coughs. And when he gets a cough, it goes on and on and on for days.
I said, “Look, neither of us is going to get any sleep, so you’re banished to the guest room.” The next morning, I set about to wash the entire inside of the house with lysol. I was NOT going to get this cold (or whatever it was).
I usually open all the windows and try to shoo the nasty little buggers out, but since it was ten below that whole week, arctic breezes weren’t an option.
By Thursday morning, in spite of my best efforts, the bug had invaded and set up shop in my respiratory tract. I didn’t feel at all well.
Stupid me, I tried to carry on. There was so much to do.
Have you ever felt so bad that just moving your eyes makes you feel sick?
Yeah? You too?
I couldn’t write, or blog, or read, or anything. And because I’d not heeded my own advice about stopping activity and resting, I finally wound up in the ER. The good doc gave me antibiotics.
Yesterday was my first day out. Everything looked different. Bright. Almost dazzling. Like spelunking and getting lost in a dark cave for a week and then finally finding your way out into the noon day sun.
Ah, it’s good to feel good.
Just a reminder for all you sick people out there: go home before you make other people sick, get into bed, drinks lots of tea, and don’t try to carry on as if you’re a machine.
Those microscopic bugs are mightier that you. Your only defense against them is rest and time. And maybe antibiotics.
I think God lets us get sick every so often so we’ll realize how very fragile we are. And that He is our healer.