Sick and tired of being…

There’s nothing like being sick in the summer that makes you feel, well, like the biggest loser this side of Loserville.

There’s nothing like being sick in the summer that makes you feel, well, like the biggest loser this side of Loserville.

And, don’t get me wrong I’m not looking for sympathy or anything, well maybe a little, a big part of the sick, loser thing is feeling sorry for yourself and us guys are pretty good at that, but I thought maybe I’d share my story in case anybody could relate (plus I’m still not 100 per cent and it’s virtually the only thing I did last week so it’s what you get this week).

I think it started a week ago Thursday night when, not to get into too many details over your breakfast, but I spent as much time in the bathroom as the bedroom so by the morning I was totally wasted and figured I wasn’t going to work so made the call with the pathetic voice to inform the office that I was going to be AWOL.

I got over the guilt after awhile and attempted to get some shut-eye as the birds chirped outside and the sun shone down on the Okanagan to reveal all the abundance and spoils that the valley has to offer outside your window – spectacular scenery, refreshing lakes, bountiful fruit, recreational activities too numerous to count – unless you happen to be overwhelmingly consumed with your own well-being and whether you can risk another sip of apple juice in an attempt to stave off death, or, just give in to the inevitable and finally end the suffering.

OK, maybe a little melodramatic but it’s the kind of stuff that goes through your head as you toss and turn and sweat and totally absorb yourself in the moment, which doesn’t feel so good.

And it’s like time stands still when you’re sick and your mind has way too much time to think about, well, how sick you are.

And every other stupid little, trivial thing that enters your mind and causes concern and the fact that you’re unable to do anything about it due to your present state of affairs keeps your mind racing like an Indy car that happens to have no wheels so it can’t get out of the pit.


And how alone you are. Although when you’re sick you can be in a house of 30 people and feel as if you are on a deserted island.

One of my kids was at home so occasionally there was the offer of water and a check on my condition (even genuinely, instead of the usual monotone “how was your day, dad?” greeting I get from them and that’s only cause they know I give them heck if they don’t before they ask for something as soon as I get home from work) that I did appreciate, plus at least there was someone to dial 911 if things got even worse….

Plus my dear, sweet mother did call me later in the afternoon after she heard I’d taken a turn for the worse. Maybe I wasn’t alone. And maybe I would live after all as the illness subsided just enough to give some room for optimism. As in, death was no longer a viable option.

After all, thanks to the PGA championship, yes it’s on for eight hours on Friday afternoon so it came in handy, between bouts of trying to sleep, and AMC (which has good movies on during the day, although the commercials, mostly for ambulance-chasing lawyers and so-called universities that will transform your so-called life, assuming of course you need a transformation from such a prestigious learning centre because, well, what are you doing home watching TV on a Friday afternoon anyway?), and I got through Day 1 OK.

Of course my bounce back was slow and painful and Day 2 and Day 3 weren’t that much different from Friday, except it was the weekend on two fabulous, sunny days off in the Okanagan, and I was now officially a bigger loser than yesterday.

Not to mention I was still watching AMC and golf, although mostly sitting up now, and seriously considering calling up a 1-800 lawyer on TV to see what I could get from the person who gave this damn thing to me.

And then there was my family, who was starting to lose patience with my malady and I was now officially to blame for ruining a planned boating trip for Sunday…….

Anyway, you’ll be relieved to know I’m feeling better, and I’m sure also happy that this column is finally coming to a close, and I no longer hate birds, the sun or anything else that happens to occur outside my bedroom window.

I’m back. Or at least 80 per cent back. And we’re even going boating this afternoon. Isn’t life wonderful?