When I was a little girl and I was sick, my mother would make me get up in the morning. Take a bath/shower wash my face and get dressed. Even if I wasn't going to school. She would tell me it would make me feel better. So I would do as told and get up and do my morning ritual. I used to get so angry with her because damn it, didn't she know I was sick. I felt like crap.
The last thing I wanted to do was get out of a nice warm bed crawl into a steaming hot shower, put on fresh clothes with a clean face and freshly brushed teeth.
When I emerged from the bath I would find a clean, freshened bed with pillows plumped or a couch made up with sheets, blankets, and pillows which allowed me to lounge in comfort. There I would lie for several hours at a time watching one of the three channels. First, it would be the news then Let's Make a Deal and on into the afternoon where Days of Our Lives or General Hospital would entertain me with some awful drama. More likely it would be playing in the background while I read my latest obsession, be it one of the Little House books or Anne of Green Gables or a Zane Grey I stole from my father's pile.
When I was six or maybe seven, I got really sick. I had the flu that moved into scarlet fever and then snowballed into rheumatic fever. I was down for a couple of months. I read, watched TV, played with my dolls and pretended to be a princess who had been exiled to a strange and distant land. I built forts from quilts absconded from the couch and the linen closet. I drank gallons of soup from mugs and ate tons of grilled cheese sandwiches made by my mom.
She worked nights and tried to sleep all day. During my illness instead of her going to bed when she got home from her shift, she would sleep on the couch, one eye open, jerking awake every time I coughed or blew my nose. She was ever vigilant. She would pop up wide awake, drink another cup of coffee as she prepared whatever medicine was needed at the time. She made grilled cheese and tomato soup and fed me peeled oranges and apples cut into slices. Eat she would say. Eat your health.
She taught me many things, but one of the best things she taught me was to give yourself some love. Get up, put on your lipstick and face the world. You don’t have to go any further than the couch, but you have made the next step to feeling better.
It’s Flu Season. If you did or didn’t get your flu shot, I hope you do not get inflicted. If by some poor happenstance of luck you come down with the dreaded Captain Tripps or a bad case of Coxilliosis of the Blow Hole. I have these words of advice. Get up. Take a hot shower. Put on fresh clothes. Eat your health.
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