I haven't been sick in years. All the witty words I had planned to write have been flattened under a pounding sinus headache. I wanted to tell you in excruciating detail (but funny, of course) about how wretched I feel. Then I realize, you've had colds before. You know what it feels like. Having a cold does not mean the universe revolves around you; it just makes you feel as if it should.In accordance with the advice from multiple websites, I'm laying low today, resting and drinking lots of water. I called in sick to the care facility. I hope the nurse actually writes the note and puts it on Mom's coffee table. Although Mom might not even notice I didn't show up, the way things are going lately. She's been dozing on the couch every night for the past week. Yesterday I shuffled out to my car and drove in rush hour traffic to see if she might be more alert before dinner. She woke up when I came in but did not sit up. I sat in the visitor's chair on the other side of the coffee table and didn't touch anything.
“Do you want to go outside and plant seeds in your pots?” I asked her. My spirit was willing but I hoped she would say no. My flesh was definitely weak.
“Do you want to go outside?” Was she reading my body language? My mother is a master at the codependent redirect—I don't know, what do you want to do?
“It's up to you.”
“I don't think it is the right thing to do.” She was rubbing her stomach under the blue plaid blanket.
“Are you in pain?”
“Yes.”
“Is it your stomach?”
“I don't know what I need,” she said in frustration. Her eyes started to close. “I just want to sleep.”
I didn't kiss her forehead like I usually do because I didn't want to contaminate her with my germs. Although a tiny voice inside me said, hey, pneumonia, the old person's best friend. I told her I loved her and quickly left. I should not have come, but I felt compelled to see her. I only sneezed twice on my way out the back door. Into my elbow, of course. I drove slowly home, too slowly, apparently, because some guy in an old American car sped by me and flipped me off. I didn't have the energy to feel righteous anger. Besides, I drive slowly everywhere. I used to be a school bus driver. That is another story.
The weather is lovely this week. Unfortunately, higher temperatures means low humidity, which means not only am I parched but so are the forests. Two weeks of spring and now apparently it's summer. That was fast. The roses aren't even blooming yet. Now there's a fire warning for tomorrow night. Wind, low humidity, and high temperatures create the perfect conditions for wildfires. Sometimes when I walk in the park, I imagine what one carelessly thrown cigarette could do. In the city, with houses so close together, it wouldn't take much to generate a conflagration. On the upside, if the air filled with smoke right now, I would not be able to smell it.
The best way to endure a cold is to immerse myself in the screen. I caught up on a new CW television show last night. It's free TV, so every five minutes I was treated to a commercial of happy people cleaning their kitchen floors using special gizmos to capture dust and dirt. Clearly, the companies that make floor cleaning products don't know about my kitchen floor. In the distant past, some ambitious soul laid down a checkerboard of black and white linoleum squares. Over the years, these squares have come unglued in many places. Corners have broken, revealing the subfloor. Crumbs and cat hair collect in the crevices. Beige paint speckles the black squares from the many cupboard repaintings. The white squares are speckled too but you can't see it as well. The whole floor should be bulldozed. Swiffering is not a solution.
Speaking of bulldozing, on Monday, heavy equipment moved into the gravel road behind the Love Shack. Three little houses up here are not on the main sewer line. That means we all must endure the beeping and banging while the City digs trenches and lays pipe. On the upside, wiped out by this cold, I went to bed early the past two nights, so I was up when the bulldozing began. Early morning for me is like one of those plants that bloom once a century. I would appreciate dawn more if I could breathe.
Being sick has inspired me to take some chances. Despite my fear of dying from amoebas eating my brain cells, on Tuesday, I dug out my neti pot, figuring I could either suffocate now or maybe die of amoebas at some unknown point in the future. Early this morning, I found some expired Tylenol in my medicine cabinet. Turns out ten-year-old Tylenol still works. What do you know.
All of this is happening while my mother is fading. I am confounded that so many things can happen at the same time. You would think the earth would cease turning out of respect for the loved one who may soon be exiting the earthly plane. You would think cold germs would hold off until a more opportune time. You would think digging a sewer trench could wait until the tears have been shed. But everything happens now.
I think she is leaving but of course I can't be sure. Maybe it's just the humidity.
