When you’re healthy, the idea of taking a day off sick seems like a lot of fun. Spend the day napping, no responsibilities, just relaxing and watching TV. But man, when you really are sick, there’s not a whole lot of relaxing going on and the responsibilities keep on coming.
Sunday morning was the start of Day 4 of the current illness and I wasn’t having a bit of fun. I was doing great at following the doctor’s instructions to get lots of sleep, but some responsibilities can’t be put off. The folks at work understood that they wouldn’t be seeing me for a while, but there really wasn’t a practical way to tell Wylie, “Sorry dude, no walks till I get better.” Instead, the walks got a lot shorter, but even then, it was taking me 45 minutes to recover from a walk that only took 10 minutes. On Sunday afternoon, AJ came by to pick up Wylie and take him to Camp Barkalot for a few days to play with Riley.
One bit of luck going into this mis-adventure was that the freezer was pretty full. The only catch is that the only comfort food (aka “stomach friendly”) in there was chicken. By Tuesday, I’d had chicken for dinner four nights in a row (the nights I could actually bear to eat dinner) and although there were some possible non-chicken dishes in the freezer, I’m still not sure my stomach was up for anything as exotic as tomato sauce, never mind broccoli or any sort of stir-fry. Tuesday evening, right at dinner time Z. stopped by with a piping hot roast beef au jus sandwich, accompanied by a side of fries and coleslaw. It was the best dinner I’ve had in a long time.
Living alone, I sometimes get to thinking about how there’s nobody around to pick up the slack if something goes wrong. And then there are times like this. At this very moment, AJ is conveniently failing to notice the croaking message on her answering machine asking when I can come over to retrieve Wylie.
I think someone’s got my back after all.
Thanks guys. And let me know when I can help you.