They Tried to Make Me Go to Rehab and I Said: No, No, No

Ok, not "rehab"....but the doctor. But I've had that lyric in my head forever and will (hopefully) never have occassion to use it as a pertinent blog title.

So I'm home with the flu, and it is more frustrating (if possible) as an adult. It is a beautiful day out, but when I try to sit outside I get a chill and have to wrap myself in a blanket - so I return to my living room where my fever spikes and I begin removing layers of clothing with the fervor of a guest on the Howard Stern show. It has been a perfect week for spring cleaning, and when I'm laying on the couch this sounds like a great use of time.

But then I rise, my head throbs like I was mainlining whiskey the night before, and I realize that my clothes touching my skin still hurts and I can feel my heartbeat through my eyes.....none of which are particularly good signs, according to WebMD. So I return to resting position and pout about my inability to accomplish anything. Well, that's not entirely true:
In the first two afternoons I read 300 pages, finishing "My Sister's Keeper", sobbed for over an hour, took some medicine and passed out for a nap. This is when I discovered that NyQuil and depressing family dramas are not a winning recipe for me when I'm home sick.

So today I tried answering some emails and watching "Dreamgirls". I had the reaction that I knew I'd have: I really don't get it. This is when I'm reminded that the "18-35 female" demographic kindly excludes me. The movie was fine = innocuous and a good "background" piece. I get Jennifer Hudson - just not the movie. But then, I also hate "Grey's Anatomy" and "Desparate Housewives"...I am actually irritated that Eva Longoria is someone that I recognize.

So I'm back to the computer and my Itunes; but even this is not nearly the indulgent experience it could be. Here I am: Amy Winehouse, Nina Simone and Metallica....no one else in the house. Not a soul to giggle under their breath when I don't make it ALL the way to the high note. And I can't get a syllable out without coughing....which makes me sit up....which makes my head hurt...and my clothes shift...which makes my skin hurt. So I sit here, silently, knowing I'll be a closet rockstar again in no time.

But in between all of this self pity, I've had the opportunity to just rest. It's not something I'm particularly good at, but something I desparately need. It is also in these moments of vulnerability that we see a very new face of old relationships. I've learned that no matter how old you are, when you are sick it still hurts your mom and dad, and it is ok to tell them that you miss them being with you. I remember when I was little and would get sick, my mom would always interrupt a long nap to take my temperature and make sure that I was ok. When my dad would get home from work, I would feel his cool hands on my face and, if even for a moment, it seemed like they were strong enough to take the sickness away. Over the past few days, phone calls have replaced cool hands and thermometers....but they are no less welcome.

If I thought Dominick to be a great husband before (and I did), he's earning some serious brownie points this week. He makes no announcements, there is no parading of his help; he quietly and lovingly brings medicine, lights a fire, and makes dinner. And his cool, strong hands smooth my face - but they can't yet tell when someone has a fever (this is another phenomena I think only happens once you are a parent...I still just touch people's heads and guess).

Last night I caught a chill and Dominick offered to switch places with me so that I could be on the couch nearest to the radiator. I tried to get up, but the pain in my head was too intense. He held onto my hands and told me to stay put. Then I felt a VERY hot hand on mine...then another...and so on. My husband, my love, was putting his hands on the radiator, then putting them on mine to warm them. It was such a tender moment, and one that I know I will hold onto for a long time.

Having known one another for 10 years, I sometimes make the mistake of thinking that I know my husband's depth...but he is always reaching deeper inside of himself to make life better for the people around him. Love sometimes comes to us in silent and what seem like small gestures, but if we keep still for a moment, we can feel how very profound it is.