Four Days in Bed

There have been plenty of times in my life when I have wished that I could just stay in bed -- I actually wished that either I felt badly enough to justify it or hadn't moral scruples enough to care. Seldom, though, does my health warrant a good lie-in. While I am not the healthiest or most energetic of people, I usually have strength enough to go about the business of my life, whether or not I choose to actually do so.

Beginning Sunday morning at 3 am, when I woke up feeling as though I had taken a nap in a radiator, I finally had my wish. I was so drained, feverish and otherwise unwell for 4 days that I wasn't able to get out of bed to do anything other than feed myself simple foods, use the restroom, and get myself from one reclining position to another elsewhere. My nose was so raw it bled profusely and repeatedly. I haven't been able to answer simple questions without irritation and frustration. I have had no voice... but that hardly mattered since I didn't want to talk to a soul. Trying to compose a sentence or an email was too much. I could read some, if I didn't mind going back to reread (several times), and I was occasionally up to some mindless chatter with a far-off friend online when I felt up to opening the laptop and stringing a few letters together in a sensical fashion.

I called a nurse twice and eventually went to a medical office to get checked out. The practitioner greeted me with the words, "Oh, you are miserable, I can see that all over your face," when she walked in to listen to my lungs and poke around in my ears. Oh, but I was! Thankfully, I didn't need to explain, much. I felt utterly helpless and was starting to taste a hint hopelessness. This after 4 days of illness that was sure to be passing.

It all came to a head last night when I decided I would get up and do some laundry. The house is a mess and we have house guests coming for the weekend. I normally love company. This time all I could think was something like "mess. tired. company. mess. tired. mess. tired. mess." There were one too many messes in that chain of thought. I started to grab clothes from the hallway floor where they get sorted before a good washing, and I dumped them into the washer. Even that simple act took herculean effort. Mid-load I just began to cry. Water streamed into the machine and a lesser quantity out of my eyes. It was a hoarse, pathetic cry that sent Daniel flying to my side with a hug. He petted my head and asked what was wrong. What was wrong? I was just soooo tired of being so tired. So tired of feeling so useless. I wanted to be up and out and able to do basic little things around my house. I wanted to be reasonable and cheerful and personable... but all of those things felt far out of my reach.

Mercifully, I didn't have too long to wait. I woke up this morning feeling human again. I'm still sick. I am still tired. But I am also capable of completing a sentence, sitting in front of a computer, cooking food that requires multiple preparation steps, fetching the mail from the street-side mailbox and breathing without aid of medicine. At this rate, I may be able to answer a phone tomorrow without sounding like death warmed over.

It's so easy to want to check out of responsibility and into bed when life is going as it normally does and I feel put upon by responsibilities. Having been to bed recently out of necessity, I can't say I recommend it... or do I?

My four days in bed drove some uncomfortable truths home. I, it would seem, can't stand being reminded that sometimes I have to rely on other people. Sometimes I can't do for myself. Sometimes I need to just trust. Sometimes I need to just sleep. Sometimes I need to just be. Sometimes I'm not in control. Sometimes... it's okay to be weak and tired and broken.

We begin life in desperate need of help. Many of us will end it the same way. When we're given a chance to visit that place of vulnerability for a day or two during the stronger years when the beginning and end seem impossibly far off, perhaps it is a gift--a reminder that some things are always true, no matter what we feel. We need. No matter how strong or affluent or healthy or independent or proud or intelligent or capable we are. We all need.