The peculiar sensation of being sick.
Now, I realize that the topic of malady has been suggested and turned and simmered and digested enough by everyone, especially for anyone currently in the northern hemisphere. But I do believe that if I don’t effectively purge my system of the somber and miscellaneous reaction to feeling ill, I’m pretty sure I just might explode into a horrible, comical, quite heated rant that will never end.
The thing about being sick is that it comes out of nowhere, especially if you deliberately try not to get sick. I can wrap myself in 752 woolly scarves of various texture and shapes, I can drink every type of herbal tea with artificial and organic honey, I can rub all the sanitizer in the world on my hands until my bright pink fingers go raw like despicable worms- but I will still decay into a smelly and sore mess.
The odd thing about feeling like crap and literally debating whether there really is a tiny little man who is trying to box their way out of your head- it’s oddly comforting.
I could say relaxing, but as a fairly sensitive person, lying down and willing sweet Death to just come and “take me now!”, (like Harry Potter was willing to do for the Wizarding World) (spoiler alert) it’s just too distracting. Therefore I cannot really take advantage of my excuse to be- and feel- completely useless.
I find being sick comforting purely because of the fact that I am alive. That may seem a bit twisted, because most people look and feel (mostly look) like death whilst ill. I mean it’s only the fifth paragraph and I’ve already used the word death three times now.
What makes me feel alive from being sick is that I am physically sick.
I have a fairly strong immune system and I live in a privileged community, so getting legitimately stay-at-home ill is a pretty rare case. I usually feel completely and boringly fine, completely disconnected from my body. I walk around completely unaware of the fact that other people just see my meat-suit, not the hustle and bustle I like to refer to as my healthy mind.
When I’m sick, every molecule of my body is throbbing and sore and in pain- and I am aware of that pain. I can feel my atoms on fire. I have a body that has the capability of actually feeling things.
I don’t mean to romanticize sickness – diseases are terrifying, mostly because the very notion of something microscopic having the power to render us so completely useless is so awesome (I mean the scary ‘oh-my-God-that-is-magnificently-horrifying-I-am-in-awe’ awesome, not the “dude, that shred was totally awesome” awesome).
People all over the world suffer sometimes terminally because of these microscopic beasts that are really just doing what they were created to do. I mean, I’m pretty sure that the common flu germ is just doing what it does best: ruining other beings’ lives because we are big and they are small so damn it, they deserve some sort of upper-hand.
But then there’s the Ebola virus, or swine-flu, or HIV/AIDS, or countless others that will make headline news when they start really affecting people in first-world countries. I think we tend to ignore it if it’s somewhere that doesn’t affect us- until it does affect us. How refreshingly human of us all.
I have no idea how my refusal to get a shot for the common flu (I will not have someone poking me with a needle unless it’s absolutely necessary, thank you) has turned into the pondering of human nature and its relationship with germs… but somehow I always get here.
But one thing’s for sure; yes, being sick sucks- but it can suck way more.