I take pride in my immune system. I’m sorry, but that’s the shameful truth. I often manage to march through periods of illness in my household unaffected (despite my habit of finishing the ever abundant supply of anonymous waterbottles left around the house in the name of “waste not want not”). Depite the aches starting, despite the coughing, I attempted to push on. It is a pride thing.
“Sickiness is a decision”, I tell myself. That is until I come down with fever. That is where I finally give in to my pride and settle into bed. Obviosuly, I’m strange. I think that has been thoroughly established.
Pride goeth before a fall they say, and I must humbly agree.
So I’m stuck in bed with a fever and the aches, but I can’t complain. Of course, there is the geography class I’ve been planning and the zoo trip I’ve been looking forward to for months… but we may as well look at the positives. There is a plethora of reasons to love being sick. In fact, I quite enjoy it.
So many benefits:
I’ve got a great excuse to relax and read in bed all afternoon.
I’ve got a wonderful squad of nurses taking the best care of me.
I’ve got the satisfaction of lying back and STOPPING for just a few hours. Talking to God. Thinking about life. My oh my. I tend to plow on like a steam train, barely looking to the side to enjoy the view.
Honestly, as long as I’m strong enough to hold a book in my hands and a conversation with my siblings, I’m a happy. So happy.