Underneath my yellow skin

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Rising From the Dead

i'm fine, no really, cough, cough.

The last two mornings, I have woken up and not felt like complete shit. I’ve been able to make it to the bathroom without feeling as if I’ve run a marathon, and I’ve made it to and back from taiji without wanting to cry. In addition, I’ve gone grocery shopping without becoming exhausted, and I’ve actually had some decent sleep* for a change. I know this doesn’t sound like much, but after the last two weeks I’ve had, I count it as a victory. I hate getting sick because it reminds me how fragile my body actually is, and no matter how much I work on making it better, it can still falter at any given moment.

I am the biggest baby when I’m sick. I tend to be stoic in nature most of the time for several reasons. I’m Taiwanese; I’m Minnesotan; I was raised that way. When I’m sick, though, all that flies out the window. All I can do is whine about how shitty I’m feeling, and to make matters worse, my cat doesn’t even care! As long as I feed him on time and give him the love he wants, he could care less that I’m languishing on my last legs. I kid, and I’m not entirely fair to him. He helps by sitting on my legs to warm them. Granted, he kneads biscuits for several minutes before actually sitting down, but I’ll take what I can get, cough, cough. He’s not very helpful when I need a cup of tea, either. His lack of opposable thumbs makes it difficult to slice the lemon and ginger and pour the honey, but he could at least pretend he’s willing to do it instead of looking at me disdainfully before licking his asshole.

That’s the one time I wish I had someone living in the house with me–not the licking the asshole part, although….anyway. I mentioned it before that I like living alone, but it’s hard when I’m sick. I don’t want to get off the couch, let alone leave the house. I think part of the reason I get so whiny is that I try to think of others most of the time, but being sick strips all that away. It’s Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs in action. If you don’t have your health, you really can’t think of much else. It’s not a good look, but that’s the upside to living alone–I’m the only witness to my childishness.** If someone had been privy to my inner thoughts during the last two weeks, they would have heard something like this (in a very whiny voice): “I haaaaate being sick. Why do I have to be sick? Ugh. I have no energy. I should just sleep. I can’t sleep. Shadow, don’t sit on my chest. I can’t breathe. Shadow! Get down! Fine. Stay there. I should probably get off the couch. Fuck it.”
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