And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
The definition of “rest”:
Rest: /rest/ verb
cease work or movement in order to relax, refresh oneself, or recover strength.
I sat down at my computer this afternoon with some trepidation. How was I going to write a Moment of Happiness for a week where I’ve been home sick with the new form of Covid? It’s a nasty one.
I tested positive on Saturday night and I was furious. How could I have Covid? But my body said, Sorry, you’ve got it. My fever soared to 103 degrees. Headache, sore throat, congestion that made me feel like my face was going to explode, and a cough that wouldn’t quit. I couldn’t take Paxlovid – it’s contraindicated with a medication that I take. They used to do IV infusions for people like me, but they don’t do that anymore…apparently without replacing that option with something else.
Going in to see my doctor, someone who I’ve known for forty years and who is my own age, he yelled at me. “Rest!” he yelled. “Rest!” and he shook his finger in my face.
So here’s the thing. Since Michael died, my sole source of income is…me. My studio. I own a small business, and I don’t receive paid sick days or vacation days or anything like that. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid. With Michael gone, I no longer have his salary to fall back on. It has created in me a sense of foreboding terror. Take a day off? Are you KIDDING?
I’ve had a really illness-infested winter. The doctor says it’s because of the stress I’ve been under for the last two years. I also think it has to do with our strange weather. We haven’t been able to settle into a season. Sub-zero temperatures give way to temps in the sixties which give way to snow which gives way to rain which returns to sub-zero. Today, we have a high of 40 degrees, and it’s already on its way back down, but tomorrow, we’re in the sixties. I don’t think our bodies know what to do.
So I’ve had a round of bronchitis and flus and colds…and now Covid. And yes, because of that foreboding terror eating at me, I’ve returned to work as soon as I’ve felt reasonably well, just to fall ill again.
I snarled at my doctor and stomped home, where my daughter, Olivia, was also ill. We hunkered down together. She would sneeze, I’d cough, she’d sniffle, I’d snort, she’d groan and I’d moan. We slept when we could. And I…did (practically) nothing.
Note I said (practically). I did start writing a new story, which should be interesting to review, since it came out of a high fever. I had to get taxes ready to drop off at the accountant. There were a few phone calls to make. But honestly, nothing like my usual schedule.
And every mor–, well, afternoon, when I woke up, I went downstairs, turned on my fireplace, fetched myself a hot cup of good coffee and some breakfast, gathered a cozy blanket, sat down in my recliner with a book, and read. Usually with an orange cat on either side of me.
One of the things I love the most about going to the Oregon coast is that every morning there, I sit at the kitchen table, within view of the ocean, with a hot cup of good coffee, some breakfast, and a book. I am not in a hurry. There, I look up at the ocean. Here, I look up at my fireplace. Typically, my breakfasts are spent in front of my computer, hurriedly eating and checking my emails, before I meet with my first client.
But this week…recliner, fireplace, blanket, good coffee, good book, two orange cats. Granted, there was also coughing, sneezing, sniffling, shivering, roasting, moaning and groaning. But I chose to notice the first set of comforts.
Today, I woke up after actually sleeping well, with few wake-ups to cough or blow my nose. I felt…okay. As I sat in my recliner, coffee on my right, breakfast on my left, cat on my right, cat on my left, fireplace roaring, blanket up to my chin, and a wonderful book called I Hold A Wolf By The Ears, a short story collection by Laura Van Den Berg, I found myself sighing (without coughing) in contentment.
Oh, lovely.
And there it was. The Moment of Happiness, Despite The…Covid.
I will not return to work until Monday, so there are still 3 more days of rest, though I do have to start reading manuscripts again by Saturday. But I will attempt to take it slow.
My doctor better not EVER shake his finger at me again.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
