Yesterday afternoon I started sneezing.  Damn warm winter and early spring! Here come the allergies!

By the time I got home I was tired.  My throat was a bit itchy.  As the evening went on I felt as if someone had crawled inside me and taken a sledge hammer to my bones.  I gobbled some naproxen and benadryl and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling fan.  I blinked, trying to find the frequency that would “freeze” the fan, until blinking became painful.

Eventually I drifted off into a dream-haunted sleep, one where the little bone crushing dybbuks were thankfully absent.

I sit in a small room with sick people every day all day.  In the last few years, I don’t think I’ve missed a day due to illness.  I’ve been lucky.

But a few days ago I took a plane ride.  Two and a half hours stuffed into a metal cylinder, cheek to jowl with strangers.  Ugh.

But I suppose I shouldn’t complain.  I speak to people every day waiting for their cancer surgeries, recovering from their heart attacks, living with busted spines.  Suffering is relative (unless it’s your own).


1 Comment

  1. DLC

     /  March 9, 2012

    As a way of explaining how pain is relative, a nurse once told me “my hangnail is worse than your broken arm. “

%d bloggers like this: