The Cost of Living

After nearly a week of living on apple juice and ginger ale, the blitzkrieg intestinal virus that knocked me off my feet has passed and I woke feeling more or less human again. It was an interesting and challenging several days - the first drawn out illness I'd had in a very long time, the first time I've missed work in a year and a half, and a reminder that living alone has it's advantages and it's drawbacks. Life goes on even when you're sleeping on the bathroom floor and vowing to live a better life if He'll just make it stop. When the clear liquids and the over the counter medications fail, when sleep is a memory, when every joint in your body aches, when it's the fourth day and you know you'd have to feel better to die, it's time to open negotiations with God. Never mind that this sort of bargaining has never worked before and you know it won't this time, desperation overtakes reason.

This is the cost of living, of aging, of a routine intestinal parasite that will run it's course and move on. I know this, of course, but only in my head. In my gut, wherein lies this parasite feasting and having friends over at my expense, is the thought of dying alone and in total misery, perhaps having my body discovered with the animals gathered around me, hungry and confused. Cause of death - dehydration, despair, self pity. I shake these thoughts off and crawl back to the couch where the small dog sleeps fitfully, aware that something is wrong and wanting to make it right. A cat or two or three arrive and burrow into the blanket. There is comfort here as they nuzzle under my chin and knead against my shoulders. The black dog sits beside me, resting her head next to mine and whining softly. She is hungry, wanting to go outside, wanting attention and stroking. The parasite within grips my intestines with a vicious and vindictive twist and it's back to the bathroom floor. The animals follow, licking my face and lying up against me. Long, painful hours pass and life goes on.

The cost of living increases as I get older. Unfamiliar aches and pains become common and chronic - every cold turns into a siege, things that never hurt before now sing to me daily, my body seems to breaking down with an infuriating regularity. But these are things I only notice when I'm unwell and bartering for recovery. Illness now blackmails me and distorts my reason, makes me all too aware of what might lie in wait. It makes me angry, sad, regretful, afraid, powerless. When, on the fifth day, I return to normalcy and health, I do it with a vengeance, a hot shower, shampoo, fiercely brushed teeth, clean clothes and make up. The parasite has been defeated and the time to celebrate is here. The cost of living has been put back in it's place. I have regained my health, my positive attitude, and most of all, my perspective. Life is good again.