I am so sick and tired of being sick. . .

November 13, 2011


I.

Can.

Never.

Get.

A.

Break.

Honestly, whatever cosmic force I've disrupted, maligned, I apologize.

Really.

I am so sorry.

So the punishment can stop at any point.

Because I just have no more time for these games.









Yesterday, I woke up early because I couldn't sleep.

Not early for me, but early because it is Saturday morning and even I can sleep in a little on a Saturday morning.

So when I was awake, coffeed and sitting in my office at 6.30 am, I was puzzled.

I thought it was anxiety over Em, my Mum, work, the usual stuff that I can normally sleep through and deal with when I am awake.

Sleep is not something I willingly let go.

I don't like it tampered with.

Loving sleep is the one thing I can absolutely count on no matter what else is going on in my world.

Puzzled doesn't mean stymied.

It just means that I spent the day wondering what was going on.

As the day progressed, I realized that while I was certainly worried about Mum, Em and work, none of those were the reasons why I wasn't sleeping well.

The day began as every day begins, coffee on, dogs out and fed, eat breakfast of cereal and coffee while perusing the internet, thinking about what to blog about today.

From about 6.30-noon I marked papers, dealt with our family budget (such as it is), thought about what needed to be done during the afternoon before I engaged in my Saturday dinner out with Mum.

However, by noon I needed to lay down.

Thinking again that I was just tired from not sleeping the night before and marking first thing in the morning certainly doesn't do anything to encourage a healthy, happy, active mind.

Or body.

Anyone who thinks that marking exams, papers, etc doesn't exhaust the mind and body hasn't done it.

Trust me.

It does.

Napping is something I am most fond of.

Especially on weekends.

But yesterdays nap wasn't really napping so I eventually gave up, got up, showered and headed to my office before visiting Mum.

And a great epiphany happened while I was in the process of recording the paper grades for Crime in Popular Film.

I realized that I wasn't just tired.

I had a headache, sore throat, I'd been coughing more than usual and my joints were achy.

F***!

Sick.

AGAIN!

Didn't I just go through this?

I think I did.

For reasons I have yet to fathom, my immune system is playing Russian Roulette with me and just when I get rid of one ailment, another pops in to take it's place.

I beg, plead with my students not to come to class when they're reduced to bacteria and germ carriers, malevolent shadows of their former healthy selves, because not only do I not want to or have time to get sick, when I do get sick I can't visit my mother.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, upsets me more than cancelling classes, ignoring the exponentially growing piles of marking, forgetting I have a husband and children while I languish in bed cursing the person who made me sick.

Telling my mother that I am sick, again, trumps all of the above.

But no one listens.

And they bring their festering, infected, germ addled bodies to my classes, my office.

Stephen thinks the papers may have been germ carriers and marking them made me sick.

I agree.

But not necessarily the physical sickness currently plaguing me.

More the marked decrease in brain cells and brain activity.









So hear I sit, again, wondering how I'll get myself through today.

What needs to be done and what I can put off for another day.

Groceries need to be done.

Absolutely.

Nothing more exciting than doing the activity you despise most while in a less than stellar physical and mental state.

As for anything else. . . .that will have to be determined at a later time.

After I've had a nap.




Title Lyric: Candle by The White Tie Affair