Alan Ilagan

It’s Saturday night, and I am about to head to bed. Having walked around in a sick haze all day, I am looking to knock myself out with some night-time cold medicine and a book. It’s been a day of green tea steeped in ginger (and the occasional spoonful of honey), a dinner of Chinese take-out (wonton soup is a sick-day stand-by), and an early evening of boiling Malaysian driftwood (not for me, for the aquarium).

I used to do much better in sickness. The television was enough for me as a kid, as was a warm couch and a one-piece winter jumpsuit (with feet). I got to drink soda and eat popsicles and miss school. I could turn on the TV and hope for ‘The Letter People’ or ‘Reading Rainbow’, or get caught up in ‘Days of our Lives’ (my tastes were always rather varied).

Getting sick now is a totally different experience, much more of an inconvenience than a break, and missing a day of work (both professional and personal) is a set-back that requires a bit of scrambling. But for tonight, I’ve had my wonton soup, I’m finishing a final cup of green tea, and I’m about to dive into a fluffy warm bed and a much-loved book. I’m hoping Andy joins me sooner rather than later.