I’ve been coughing so hard at night that my eyes hurt in the morning. Back to the doctor with me. Practicing the part where I drop to my knees, begging for mercy and antibiotics.
This is getting to be a very expensive cold.
My mother wishes to warn you that you may see me on tomorrow’s eleven o’clock news. Patient shackles self to examination table, demands drugs.
But I’m starting to feel more like a human, albeit an impolite one who coughs directly in other people’s faces. I conjured up the energy to make mac and cheese. I did. And I sat up like a big girl at the dinner table without slumping face first into the cheese.
I even did one whole hour of Pilates, collectively . . . over the whole week. My muscles have shrunk almost to nonexistence . . . but I have faith. My muscles are like wind and God to the Christian apologist. I cannot see them, but I know they’re there.
I miss doing fun things. I miss saying two sentences together. Today on my commute home I tried to sing along to the CD and coughed so hard I swerved on the highway. Lesson learned. I may take a vow of silence for the safety of us all.
I’m thinking about exiling myself to the basement tonight, so everyone else in this
house metropolitan area can sleep.