⟡ Oh, are you still sick? ⟡
In the grand scheme of life, dengue and chinkungunya are nothing. Pfft! There are truly horrible things that people suffer with and die from. Bottom line: it’s not cancer. I’ve lost count of the weeks. It doesn’t matter anymore. I really wish people would stop asking, “Are you still sick?” in an annoyed tone, meaning, haven’t you gotten over it yet? Followed by a grudging, “Well, you look good.” My reply? “I hope you never get dengue or chinkungunya.”
Chinkungunya is what I imagine it feels like to be truly old. What you don’t see is that I am in tremendous pain and can barely function. Can’t stand up without assistance and grimaces. I hobble, bent over, with lots of ouches. Can’t go up and down a step without pausing and taking a deep breath. Putting on my undies (can’t bend my knee) is agony. Forget about hooking the bra. Can’t open anything with my hands. Holding a mug of tea, well that depends on the day. Whoever invented the term “crippling arthritis” had it right: crippling.
Dengue is an existential illness…but then, all illnesses are. Too much time to think and ruminate. These last weeks have been like an extreme-meditation-challenge -reality-show. Five weeks on the couch and I should be looney by now. Instead, I am practicing what the Dalai Lama says: “Drop the thought.”
In life, we all have to “do the work.” I wake up everyday and hobble to the living room. Lying on the couch is my job right now.
Expectations are few; simple pleasures are everything. My morning mug of steaming, milky tea whilst enjoying the cool, morning air fluttering on my body. Watching the sun travel from one side of my house to the other. Settling down to lose myself in a good book or movie.
Thanks for reading my friends. I really love writing for you, to you.