In sickness and not much health

What is it about being ill that is so annoying and eye opening in equal measure? Struck down with what I suspect was a stress induced head cold this week, I found myself thinking about life, love and (an ongoing theme of this blog) the eternal question of “what am I doing with my life?!” When I’m sick I’ve not got much else to do but mull over these things. My alternatives are trying to move and having my body revolt with a chesty cough and a pounding headache. So ponder I must…

Whenever I’m ill with a bad cold I do this, which thanks to a current 9-5 occupation, happens way more frequently than my body can probably handle. My cycle of doom usually goes as follows:

Oh no I’m sick; something in my life needs to change! I ran out of fruit a week ago, why didn’t I buy more? And I’ve not eaten meat in a while so maybe this is an iron deficiency thing?”

Oh God I have so much work to do but I can’t do it because my head feels like cotton wool! And what am I doing with my life anyway? I’m small potatoes right now, small…small….Smallville? Yes I should watch Smallville.”

I wonder what my able bodied friends are doing right now? I bet they’re having fun. Why haven’t they called to check on me and see how I’m doing? I know I haven’t told them I’m ill but still, they should be mind-readers…”

And on and on the delirium goes until bedtime rolls around.

One thing I did remember this time around was how unwell I was as a child. I remember numerous visits to the doctor, and once when I was 6 or 7, I had two injections in each arm for an ailment I cannot recall right now. My arms felt like lead afterwards, and I ended up carrying a relative’s heavy bag up some stairs back home, eventually falling down those stairs and banging my head on the freezer below. Yes, there was a freezer at the bottom of our stairs; yes it hurt, and no, I don’t think we ever actually used that freezer. If I understood the reasoning of the adults in my life at that time, I’m sure I would be a much more grounded person.

But them’s the breaks.

Which reminds me; I once broke my wrist (again around 7 or 8) from standing on a chair reaching for something on top of a cupboard, even though I knew it was dangerous. Luckily, that was back when you had the cast for broken bones made out of plaster and people could sign it, so it made me pretty cool.

Other ailments and accidents included regular nose bleeds, immediate vomiting when being force fed vegetables, and once burning both palms of my hands on an iron. I was not what you would call a “well child” (you can decide for yourself whether that was physically or mentally) but I was scrappy! At least that’s what I told myself.

Looking back on it, I don’t know why I was under the assumption that I would just magically become a healthy adult considering how sick I was as a child, but as always, I had unrealistically high hopes for myself.

Getting sick always reminds me of the things I’m not doing and should be doing, and coming out of it is like taking my first baby steps into this new world that I have literally been out of for almost a week. So I’ll conclude this stream of consciousness by remembering that I was always ill as a child and not much has changed since.

Here’s to getting better and being fit enough to star in my own superhero series.

Image credit: wake up by Claire Jones from the Noun Project

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Maame Blue

Writer| Poet| Blogger| Ghanaian by heart, Londoner by nature

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