A Chronicle of Being Twenty-Two & Sick

Never have I longed to be a kid again more than these past couple of nights being sick.  When you’re a kid, all it takes is one yell up the stairs for mom and she’d just take care of everything and somehow you’d feel so much better. Who knows how they do it; it’s just a mom thing.

Flash forward 20 years to you in the same sickly situation, stuck in your apartment alone getting that urge to call out for good ol’ mom. Only thing is, mom isn’t coming. Mom has done her job for the past 18 years and now it’s up to you to make yourself feel better, and let me tell you, the outlook’s not promising.

First you wake up at around midnight from awful stomach queasiness/pain and sit up in bed, only to find that it’s probably in your best interest to just lay down. Completely flat. Then you think, “maybe I should just try to fall back asleep.” Yeah, if only you could sleep on your back.

You decide to lay there for a good 10 minutes or so and then make the executive decision that you’re going to turn over on your stomach…

BAD LIFE CHOICE! ABORT! ABORT!

Now, once again, you’re lying completely flat on your back and still at square one. You can’t help but curse yourself for not taking some sort of notes on your Etch-A-Sketch as a child as to how your mom would handle this situation.

But wait! You remember that you have some Pepto Bismol in the bathroom. Victory!

Or at least it would be if the bathroom wasn’t so far away. A one bedroom apartment never felt so large. But you (slowly) make your way to the bathroom, choke down some Pepto pills and then (slowly) make your way back to bed.

It’s now 1:30 am and you’re thinking of writing a very angry letter to the people at Pepto Bismol for selling, what you’re convinced are placebo pills, because absolutely nothing about your symptoms have changed.

After giving up that fight, you watch a couple episodes of your guilty pleasure show, Desperate Housewives, and it takes a Superman kind of strength to not keel over and die every time Bree brings some neighbor muffins. Damn, that woman makes a lot of muffins. Why does food seem to appear in every single frame?

You begin to learn from your mistakes and get smarter as to when there might be food coming up. So you turn your head away from the iPad, like what your mom would tell you to do at the scary part of a movie. You’re finally feeling a little better, until you look at the clock and it’s 4:26 am.

Groaning, you pray for sleep because you’re still new at work and don’t feel you can take a sick day. Fantastic. Being 22 and sick blows.

You wrack your brain again, repeating the same question over and over again, “WWMD?” You decide that mom would just tell you that you need to relax and maybe even meditate.

So you turn off the iPad and lay there once more. You think of anything but being sick. And slowly…slowly…slowly, you fall to sleep.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

It’s 7 am and your alarm is going off, telling you to go join the real world.

You groan because you remember that you can’t even have your mom call in for you.

It’s a vicious cycle, I tell ya.

Stay well and until next time,

C. Brooks

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