Woman Enough

Recuperation

Posted in Uncategorized by womanenough on October 21, 2011

I’ve been sick this week. The kind of sick where, at first, you play it off as no big deal, just a scratchy throat. And then you feel like a big cowardly baby because you’re in the rack at 4:30 in the afternoon, whining about a scratchy throat.

And then it’s four days into your scratchy throat and it’s a little worse and you think “hey, wait a minute!” And despite your status of one of America’s unemployed and uninsured, you go to a doctor, and it turns out a nasty little bacteria’s been making its home in the back of your throat and a little penicillin should clear your strep throat right up.

I don’t get sick very often. I get a cold a year, maybe, and then every three or four years a solid case of something big (one year it was the flu, another poison ivy, sometimes strep).

Feeling poorly made everything about living aboard seem impossibly hard. There is that water filled punt with it’s wet seats to sit on while you stroke, stroke, stroke across the harbor, wetter each second. And it’s tough to keep the stove fed when you’re body doesn’t want to move from where you’re lying to fetch wood every fifteen minutes. And when you’re snug in your bunk, all your diseased breaths are constantly condensing on the walls and overhead and little sick-o water droplets periodically splash down onto your sick-o face.

So, it’s not the ideal environment in which to be ill.

Yesterday morning, when I emptied both the water tank and the stove fuel resevoir to make a lukewarm half cup of tea, I finally called “uncle.” I headed up to my parents’ house, where there was television and oil heat and extra blankets and did I mention television?

It was a great six hours. Nothing dripped, nothing rocked, nothing mildewed or leaked!

And today, feeling a little better and properly diagnosed and medicated, I’m back to the tasks of every day life. I should fill the water tank and add some fuel to the stove, and there’s a mound of infected laundry to be done. But I think maybe I’ll milk this just a few more hours, and sip hot tea beside a sun-drenched window just a couple moments longer. Because really, what’s the point of the miserable feeling part if you can’t linger on the bright-eyed lazy moments just a bit too long?

 

 

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