Sick

I really don't like being sick, except that I have a generous sick-leave policy at work (this is probably because I could hypothetically use sick leave to care for a sick spouse or child - but not having those, it just means more time for me). It's some sort of head cold. The only time I have been nauseous was when I blew my nose hard enough to screw up my left inner ear, and all sense of balance vanished. I sat and looked at the TV, which was off and as is typically true, was not moving except as a part of the surface of the earth hurtling through the void of the cosmos. But it, and everything else seemed to be spinning, counterclockwise.

And at just that moment, the oven timer went off. I had to get up, navigate to the kitchen, and remove my food from the oven with my own senses trying to convince me that I was walking on the walls, the ceiling, or anything but a sturdy floor. I managed, but felt like passing out from the extreme disorientation in the process.

I have read that one of the earliest signs of civilization is a healed femur. If this bone is broken, the wounded person cannot hunt, cannot gather, and can in no way provide for himself. In the animal kingdom, this will kill you, but if you find a broken femur that has been healed, it means that someone cared for the wounded person until he recovered.

I wonder how much of that we have lost today. With our knowledge of infectious disease, it is more uncommon for people, having heard you are ill to place themselves in your presence. Within families, it is (in my experience) typical - when I had the stomach flu, I could call my sister and ask her to bring some supplies because I couldn't make it to the store. My roommate was also around, but he had little choice as well and was already in for a penny, as it were.

It is seen as an affectionate gesture by people with a significant other, as well. The girl who brings food to her diseased boyfriend, the guy who brings over movies to stay with his girl until she feels better. That... would be nice.

But beyond that, I wish that we (and by this, I really mean "I") had that in a community. That it did not have to be relegated to the realm of philos or eros to care for others in such a way. To visit, stay with, and care for the sick is to put your own self at risk for the sake of another. It is, in a small way, self sacrificing.

Then again, I also really wish I did have a girl that cared enough to care for me when I'm down. Feeling isolated already and having to cancel my few social interactions in a week to recuperate stinks. John Donne, beliving he had the plague and thus in quarantine lay in bed, cut off from the world, wrestling with God, hearing the tolling of the church bell announcing another death from the plague, composed the famous "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." I imagine I could have it worse. But I am trying to look to the hurts I have and in the vain belief that others go through the same feelings I do, put it out there to see how a church could address those needs.

Not that I believe a designated "sick-person-visitor" would make me feel better. I'd see them as doing it mostly as a chore, a role, or a job. I want the personal "I heard you were sick and wanted to help you through." Then again, I also wish I could put down "Number of persons: _2_" on the RSVP card for the wedding I'm attending in June. If wishes were fishes, I could fill all the seas. As it is, all I have is an empty glass bowl.