Lea Wait, here, blogging for the first time in a couple of weeks. Where I have I been in the meantime? In bed. Not a romantic bed. Not a room-serviced bed (although my husband certainly gets multi-points for trying.) Not even my own cozy bed. I’ve been in exile in the guest room of our house, with germs, kleenex, unending glasses of juice, and stacks of books and magazines I was too weak, for the most part, even to hold.
And, I’ll have you know, this does not happen to me. I am tough. I almost never get a cold. I always have flu shots. I eat lots of vegetables. I’ve been taking assorted vitamins since I was 25, varying them as studies indicated. I eat yogurt. I don’t smoke. All right, I do drink. But I do not get sick — do you hear me??? Pain and illness are not things that stop me.
I was brought up that way. When I was growing up, fevers were tolerated for a day or maybe two, placated with bed rest, Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup, tall glass of iced ginger ale, and then — back to school with you! No germs dared linger long in our house.
When I was 13 I first started getting serious monthly pains my mother called “that time.” She considered any discussion of such indicated wimpishness – cramps were a fact of life to be coped with. When mine led to such embarrassments as fainting in school and being sent home, she was not pleased, and silently handed me a heating pad and an aspirin. (My grandmother, who lived with us, sometimes made me hot tea with a surreptitious bit of her private cognac added in silent sympathy.) I was humiliated. No one else I knew seemed to have the problems I had — or certainly never shared that they did. Basically, I felt like a failure as a female. After a couple of years I learned to steal aspirin from the cabinet before the pains started, and hide the pain in public. The fainting stopped. I came close to passing out during the hours of SAT testing. But I didn’t. I toughed it out.
When I was 21 I was diagnosed with endometriosis, and learned that my pains were not the same as those most women felt. That year I had the first of a series of 8 surgeries to help control my condition. In those days the only hormonal treatment available was birth control pills, which helped a little, and my doctor trusted me with my first bottles of serious pain pills and tranquilizers. I saw him every 4-6 months until he died, 8 years ago. For most of those years I was in pain, depending on the bottles to get me through between surgeries. I was stubborn, and my doctor and I worked carefully together. I did not become addicted.
During those years I was also a manager at AT&T, I traveled on company business, I was a supervisor, sometimes of large organizations, and I adopted and brought up four children on my own. Although because of the surgeries I had to take time from the office for six weeks about every 5 years, the only time I took sick days was when one of children was sick, and luckily, my crew was also healthy. Most of my supervisors never knew of my medical condition. In a time when in most of my jobs I was the only management woman in my department, a “female illness” would have ended my career. One vice president, signing off on a medical procedure my doctor and I had intentionally written up to be as unclear as possible, told me I’d be a lot more promotable if I’d just have a hysterectomy while I was out. I was 27. It was a joke.
So — colds? Flu? Not me. I was tough. I was the one who took care of people. My children. The people who depended on me at work. My mother. Even my husband, who’s had the misfortune to manage to have bad cases of the flu in several of the past years.
As he had this year over the Christmas holidays. And then managed to get again in late January.
And I’ll admit, I gloated a bit. He didn’t take vitamins. He didn’t eat as many vegetables or fruits as I did. He didn’t sleep as many hours a day. He needed to take better care of himself.
And this time, the gods reached down and pointed at me.
Yes, I did all those things right. No, I almost never get colds. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the flu. And this was my very first time for … pneumonia. Yup. I got it good.
And I apologize to all the people (especially my husband) who knows I actually thought I was in control of my own body.
You all win. But I’m on antibiotics. There is hope I won’t have to cancel any more talks and I’ll actually get through the 976 emails in my in-box.
And I’ll go back to eating my vegetables in their non-juiced form, and maybe even to sleeping in my own bed, and maybe, maybe, even to doing some of the writing I was supposed to do in February.
But I’m newly chastened. I toughed it out for years. But — guess what? (Husband laughing in the corner.) Yes, I am human. I am not in control of everything. As my grandmother (who, years later, I realized had probably had endometriosis herself, before it had been recognized as a disease) would have said – I got my comeuppance.
I can sympathize. With both conditions. They suck!!! Keeping good thoughts for your speedy or as speedy as possible, recovery. Dee
Thank you, Dee! And my sympathy on YOUR situations! Lea
Now I gotta make sure that yesterday’s burst of energy, that “I feel a lot better today,” feeling doesn’t derail the recovery. My love is tough, no doubt about it, but the universe is bigger and tougher. Gets us all in the end, and before that often rewards toughness when it’s tempered with a little humility. The coughing I hear from upstairs indicates that the universe might just be reinforcing the humble dose you heard in her post. Lets all hope so. That coughing is no fun at all.
Lea, what a pain in the patootie! Feel better soon.
Most important to avoid a relapse.
And didn’t we all grow up with that stiff-upper-lip kind of advice. So hard when we discover we are vulnerable. Last fall, as I was coughing my way through November, I realized that I think of myself as tough and healthy and get sick every fall and stay sick for months. So I marched off to the doctor and got a handful of prescriptions and so far…the cough has stayed away. A miracle.
It’s just so unfair that our healthy eating can’t do it alone. Get well. Take care. Go write good books!
Thanks, Kate! Still working on that “get well!” part!
So terribly sorry you’ve been laid low! Hope you’re up and about again. My mommy was like that; she reminded me of the Energizer Bunny. Since I wasn’t, she was always on my case ’cause I got sick and stuff. But then she got pleurisy. Heh heh heh. I know. I’m evil. But I did feel vindicated!
I’m glad you’re on the mend, Lea, but don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure you’ve benefitted greatly from your healthy lifestyle for lo these many years. Pneumonia is one nasty condition. My mom came down with it 14 years ago and I didn’t think she was ever going to shake it. Lots of deep breathing finally helped her turn the corner, so don’t forget to breathe! (Say hello to your trusty nurse for me.)
Thanks for the advice, Maddy! (And I will!)
Oh wow, as they say in the south, good night, Miss Agnes! You are sturdy and brave! I was especially awed by your working on while being a corporate manager, as I did that kind of work for several years and know what the pressures can be! Take it realllllll easy, pamper yourself and feel better soon! These things can be insidious, so be verrrry gentle to yourself!!!!! All best! Here’s a hot toddy to make you feel better! Thelma Straw in Manhattan
It takes a tough woman to admit having been leveled by the bug. Hope you feel better soon!