About 3pm on Tuesday, working on a project at the office, I started to feel the beginnings of a little "ickiness" coming on. You know what I mean: the slight taste of infection in the back of your throat, a little bit of cough when you laugh, blowing your nose just a little too often. I was not too concerned though, as colds are common in the dead of winter and The Writer had a touch of something over the weekend. I was pretty sure that like all other viruses that try to come my way, it would submit to my vitamin rich eating habits and general health-nut hippie way of being.
By the time I reached my front door at 6pm on Tuesday night, I was nearly in tears. Every time I coughed, I felt as if my lungs were on fire. I could feel intense pain in the front of my chest all the way through to my back between my shoulder blades. Something was horribly wrong. The Writer came over and watched the State of the Union with me and worked on some of his writing (duh, he really is a writer). When I woke on Wednesday morning, I could hardly breathe. At least not full breaths. For if I tried to fill my lungs, I would hear a gurgle deep in my chest and the cough that ensued would be so painful, I'd feel like I was dying. I called my doctor.
1:40pm yesterday afternoon, I checked into my doctor's office. Upon the initial exam, she rushed me into Radiology for emergency chest X-rays. Diagnosis: Pneumonia. WHAT. THE. FUCK. Seriously? I am no medical expert, but can't that shit like, kill you? Don't Pneumonia patients have to go to the hospital? And, I quit smoking over 7 months ago? How could something like this happen now? She prescribed three prescriptions: A very strong antibiotic, a codine-spiked cough syrup and a muscle relaxer to help with the pain surrounding my lungs. She also ordered me some very specific instructions that I stay with someone for the next 24 hours. If my temperature or cough got worse or if I reacted to the intense prescription cocktail, I was to rush directly to the ER. Okay, fucking scary.
So there I was, yesterday afternoon. Waiting to take my full dose of narcotics until The Writer could come over after fulfilling his civil responsibility of Jury Duty. Feeling VERY sorry for myself. I couldn't go to yoga class last night. I couldn't take my dog on a walk in the unseasonably warm weather. I couldn't take advantage of the sunshine with a pint among my friends at my local micro brewery. Hell, I couldn't even be at work, taking care of the multiple projects that I have building up. All I could do was sit around in my misery and pain and feel sorry for myself.
Sitting there, like a sad and whiny little bitch, I then learned some tragic and devastating news. A friend with whom I was close in high school (though we've only seen one another a dozen or so times since) had lost her husband in a freak accident on Sunday. The last time I saw her was over my birthday a few weeks ago. She had her 2 kids with her. She was so happy and proud. In the blink of an eye, she lost the love of her life. At 28 years old, she is now a widow and a single mother of a 3 year old and 7 week old.
My immediate reaction was shock and pain for her and her children. I wanted to hop right into my car, drive up to their little mountain house, give her a hug and stay with her to help her with any of the household duties that needed to be done while she healed her heart. Then it occurred to me a Pneumonia-stricken, germ infested petrie dish of a human was the last thing this young and grief ridden family needed.
My point is, it could always be worse. As cliche as that sounds, it is true. No matter what we have going on or how sorry we feel for ourselves, there is always someone else out there in this world in need of some compassion. We too often take fore granted the little things in life. For me, it is yoga class, sunshine, work, breathing. For my friend, it is her 3 year old's voice exclaiming "Daddy!" when he comes home from work everyday. This world would be a much better place if we all learned to take the time to nourish those little things. The things that seem so small and insignificant but make us happy. It is time that we not only count our blessings but hold them close and be thankful we have them. Tomorrow is never certain. We can choose to make impermanence a depressant or we can choose to make it a blessing. Today, while I am sick in bed, I will hug my dog just a little tighter and be thankful for all that I have.
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