Saturday Night and I Hate My Body, My Stomach's Churning and My Head's a Mess, Too

When I was young, the only way I got to stay home from school was if I were sick:    translate: had a fever    translate:  my body learned how to create a fever whenever I needed refuge from school.

There were other times, though, when my body simply wore out and got sick--strep infection, fever, raw throat, bronchitis, walking pneumonia, migraine headache, intestinal/stomach/flu, head cold, sinus infection--all the stuff everyone gets.  

I went to bed Thursday night sick; woke up Friday before 6am and threw up everything I'd eaten the day before.  Friday was a nightmare of stomach cramps, chills, and muscle and joint aches.  Friday night I slept in snatches--finally getting up late Saturday morning in an actual puddle of my own sweat. 

Brent spent the rest of the day washing and drying my side of the bed.  He made me chicken noodle soup and it tasted gross--but it stayed down.

Last night I was hot--but I could keep down sips of water and Gatorade--so I slept.  Sunday began after noon when I got up and drank a cup of 7-Up and ate some saltine crackers.  Dinner was tomato soup and more crackers--this meal tasted good.  

It is after 11pm on Sunday evening now and I spent the day keeping away from my daughter, her husband and my grandson who is only 5 weeks old . . . didn't want them to get sick.  They dropped in earlier--looking for a break from Caleb's need to be constantly held.  Brent and I thought that when they heard that I was sick, they would stay away--but I remember early days of parenthood when both Brent and I were frustrated by the inconsistencies of a new child's feeding and sleeping schedule--and do not wonder that they decided to come over for the Sunday afternoon.  

Most of today is blurry.  I did take a shower--ate soup--listened to Conference talks from 2 weeks ago--cleaned out the bunny cages--felt my hamstring and right shoulder both up their complaints.  

This reads like a journal entry--facts about as exciting as a weather report.   

I want to remember that there are days when I am sick and ache and thirst.  There are so many more when I am able to walk and move and speak without pain.  

The Church teaches that this life is "but a moment and a forgetting" (I think that comes from Shakespeare)--when the eternities are long behind me, I want to be able to look back and nod--I was fairly clueless during my earth life, but at least smart enough to know that small black holes didn't control my life or obscure the brilliance of the truth of the Gospel.