Cannons, love, and amazement


I am drinking orange juice at my favorite diner this morning.

I like orange juice, but I rarely get it. Today though, I am three days into a bad cold turned infectious, with plans to head down to Pennsylvania tomorrow for a couple of days visiting friends and a dear cousin.

So it’s been blitzkrieg time. More medications than you shake a stick at. My normal array of medicine then some antibiotic formulated for horses, inhalers, this weird truly disgusting spray that miraculously numbs your throat (and anything else it comes in contact with. Last night I inadvertently numbed my tongue. It was hilarious.).

My lovely bride has taken good care of me. I am not used to being taken care of, so I am at times a little resistant. But she is not to be denied when it comes to caring for people she loves, and sick little old me didn’t have a chance. She went out and found things to treat me, and made me go to the doc a few days earlier than I would have surrendered under normal circumstances.  She may be small, but she is mighty.

I am not used to this whole being taken care of thing. My idea of self-care has mostly been to plow through and wait it out. Hers is to turn loose the cannons and the 7th Calvary, and always use a 20-ton bomb when a cap gun will do.

It works. I’ve had this kind of thing before. (Haven’t we all?). There’s typically 5 days of cold and then it morphs into some sort of sinus infection or bronchitis, which is about when I normally give up and go to the doc, and then another five days of recovery.

I am on day three and it’s been like a time-lapse movie of being sick. Symptoms like a Mack truck galloping one to the other like Secretariat in the home stretch. Day three and I am about where I would be on day seven. At this rate, I’ll be pretty much well in another day or two, my body reeling, wondering what happened to it.

Like I said earlier (Or at least I think I did. I am so full of medication I can’t be sure.), I am not used to this being taken care of thing. I’m pretty low maintenance physically. I don’t get sick much. Introvert that I am, I just crawl onto my sofa and read and sleep and drink until I better. Sickness is something to be outlasted.  With her, it is something to be attached, battled, defeated.

I think I like being taken care of. I didn’t think I would. It’s an unexpected blessing of marriage the second time around. One of many.  I am grateful for all of them, and even the unexpected challenges. This much happiness (Can you be happy even when you are this sick? Yes you can.) is new to me.

And all I can be is grateful. And wonder at it all. Her brand of love is relentless in the best of ways. It leaves me wondering how many other things I’ve been doing wrong for all these years. Time will tell.

In the meanwhile, load the cannons. I have germs to kill.

Be well. Travel wisely.



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