You Make Me Sick


It’s a strange thing to hear your pulse running through your ear, but whether it was the sinus issue I’ve had, the stomach flu that finally caught me, or the deliriousness that resulted when both collided, I could hear my pulse in my ear, coupled with the steady, quick breathing I managed to muster through all the blocked passages. This is the worst bout of sickness I’ve had in a rather sickly stretch of winter weeks. For some reason, someone is telling me to slow down and take better care of myself, and truth be told I haven’t cared enough to do that. Better to thrash and crash and blaze the glory.

But this one is different – it feels different. It gave me pause, as I laid on the bed, blinking in the silence, staring at some obscure spot neither here nor there, and listening to my heart and my breath. It was telling me to stop. It was telling me to listen. It was telling me to learn. The secret is in the silence. In my breathing. In your heart. So let’s stop. Just… stop.

UPDATE #1: I spent an incredibly dissatisfying night tossing and turning, stuck smack dab in between the coldest bouts of shivering chills and the hottest, most uncomfortable sweating sessions, with no happy middle ground. My empty stomach burned, and I felt on the verge of throwing up, but how would that even have been possible when I’d expelled everything I had to give a few hours prior? There was nothing left to give the toilet.

I awoke in a state of slight confusion, mollified by the delivery of a Brooks Brothers order. But who can think of dressing up at a time like this? While not hungry, I knew if I didn’t eat then I’d probably pass out, or start sending texts that would rival the drunkest night, and nobody would stand for that, so I tried a small bit of soup and that stupid sickness stand-by – Saltines. So far, it has stayed down, but these are early days yet. Stay tuned…

 UPDATE #2: Oh God, this is not over yet. There are rumblings from afar… getting closer. Someone just suggested that I have an abortion. If it would help at this point, I would, even if there are NO WIRE HANGERS in this house…

UPDATE #3: Good Lord, I think my stomach is about to recreate a scene from ‘Alien’ here…

UPDATE #4: Sweet Baby Jesus, my mother has just suggested I try the BRAT diet.  It consists of bananas, rice, applesauce and plain toast. I think it was her passive-aggressive way of telling me I’m a brat and kicking me when I’m down.

UPDATE #5: If the point of the BRAT diet is to run through you like a marathon, then yes, it works.

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