Wednesday, November 21, 2012


Pretending to feel ill, I would call my mother into my room, peer through half-open eyelids, and whine with a deep, throaty moan. Promptly, she would stand up and rip the covers off of my bed, demanding that I get up and get ready for school. I was a faker.

As an adult, I pretend to be well. Muddling through a fever or a cough or an overall feeling of ick, I pull on clothes, slap on makeup and head to the office. Unless I am stricken with the influenza. It holds me captive for it's traditional 24-48 hours. I am powerless.

The only cure is waiting. Waiting for the fever to break. Waiting for the upheaval to cease. Waiting to feel normal enough to do simple things like sit up in a chair. When the worst of it ceases, crackers calm the stomach and flat soda washes down the crackers. And then it seems that almost instantly, good feelings return and influenza is gone. At least for another year.

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