Just a Little Unwell

“I’m not crazy. I’m just a little unwell.” – Unwell, Matchbox Twenty

I hardly ever get sick. Just ask anyone. It doesn’t usually matter how many people around me are sick, or how long they’ve been sick, or even if they happen to sneeze on me at the absolute wrong time. I’m generally good, so when I do get sick (once in a green moon — did you know that blue moons actually happen quite often?) I am the WORST PATIENT EVER.

Stage 1: DENIAL

Nope. Not me. I don’t ever get sick. You must mean somebody else. Maybe that guy behind me. Oh, there isn’t a guy behind me. And you noticed my cloudy eyes and unsteady gaze? You can see my red nose, and I sound like a Muppet? Well, same to you, because I’m not *achoo!* sick. Thank you very much.

Stage 2: ACCEPTANCE, BUT STILL NOT LETTING YOU HELP

Okay, okay. So I’m sick. Don’t you dare say you told me so. You want to make me soup and draw me a nice warm bath? That’s nice and all, but I’m not so sick I need all that right now. I can still take care of myself. Yeah, I know I look like death warmed over. And I know I sway every time I stand. It’s all good. I’m just getting my bearings. I’m just a little sick. This too shall pass, like that gall stone I got rid of last year. Wasn’t that a blast?

Stage 3: THE WALKING DEAD

I’m still on my feet. Sort of. This wall is propping me up. Please don’t move it. So, I admit I can’t make it into the kitchen without help anymore, my nose is running like a faucet, and I can only grunt when I want something, caveman-style. But that’s all good. It’s just where I want to be right now. I’m still in control. I swear I am. I’m still only eating food I can get myself, so I’m losing weight. I always wanted to find a great weight loss plan anyway.

Stage 4: REAL ACCEPTANCE

What’s your name again? What’s MY name again? I can’t move anything but my mouth, but believe me I’m still moving it enough. Just keep shoveling the food in again. Yes, thank you for all of your help and assistance. I wrote that down because my voice is still gone. You’re a godsend. Where were you when I first got sick? That would have been nice to know.

Sam