Expectorate

Today we are having a wind storm. We were supposed to have one last week, too, but it didn’t pan out. The news has been panicking itself with warnings. I don’t really listen. The weather happens, or it doesn’t.

I was sitting in my bed today, in the mid-morning, watching the tops of the trees bend like dancers outside my window. The wind came, as promised. It came and blew everything sideways. It is here again, now dashing rain against the windows and rooftops.

Two weeks in a row, I have been sick. In between, I got better. Just like those sunny days we had last week, warm licks of Spring against our cheeks. The weather wasn’t done with us yet. The viruses weren’t done with me yet.

It is hard not to feel like this is a betrayal; two illnesses back to back, this second one so vicious and viscous too. Lots of vicious viscosity. To have every inch of my body throbbing for two days was bad; today every inch of me is throbbing, hot, cold and aching. Day three is worse. Day Three: The Worsening.

That’s what I get, for so often complaining, “Oh I wish I could just get SICK and get it OVER WITH and stop with the Mom Sickness.” The mom sickness is so irritating; it lasts two weeks and never progresses or ends and you just feel low-level gross but still functional and then one day you don’t anymore and it’s summer.

Yeah this is worse. This is so bad I had to call in help from my parents. I could probably look after my children, where ‘looking after’ means ‘8 hours of television’. Because that is it. I don’t even have the energy for balloony ball, and if your body hurts where the balloon touched it, you are wimpy, indeed.

This morning, after two days of aching, moaning, and shivering, the flu monster in my head turned on the taps and I have been blowing my nose ever since. I am out of tissues, out of cut-up receiving blankets, out of anything soft. I am down to the environmentally friendly recycled toilet paper, which is plenty soft enough for my nethers but definitely not soft enough for my beleaguered nose.

Like the tree branches and plastic toys captured by the wind, I am caught up by this virus, tossed around, thrown across the floor. The flu monster pins me down with its slimy feet and hands.

‘Next year get a flu shot,’ it growls.

I can barely nod. My temples throb.

‘Or I’ll be back. And meaner.’

‘Just..just don’t call sinusitis, OK? I promise, I’ll irrigate…’

It shakes its head and drops of goo land on me. Its green, mucousy eyebrows furrow.

‘..and, spare the kids? Shit, they will be so miserable if they get this…’

‘Flu spares no one,’ it says, ‘nooooo onnnnne.’

Ominous. I lie quietly until it releases my limbs and squelches away. I reach for another wad of toilet paper. Quickly turn my head when Fresco tries to kiss me. Hope for the best. Smear some Vicks on my chest. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

I feel like when all the snot is gone I will be a cleaner, faster version of myself. I guess I have to think that. After feeling completely torn down, the only way to go is up. Like the blue sky after a wind storm. I am looking forward to that blue sky.