Tuesday, November 17, 2015

On the outside looking in

by Rick Blechta

I am struggling with a particularly pernicious case of the flu. Strange also, because the biggest symptom is extreme vertigo. It’s gradually getting better, but on Friday when it struck, I couldn’t even sit up, let alone stand. Actually, with the swiftness by which it struck, that first part was rather frightening.

Which brings me to this week’s post’s topic: being “there” yet apart.

I’ll bet you’ve noticed the same thing when you’re really sick. Beyond feeling terrible (and being bored with the whole procedure), you lie in bed and suddenly you’re seemingly not part of your household anymore. Life is going on without you, somehow. Everything feels as if all activity, all sounds and smells are coming to you through an invisible curtain. It becomes almost a dreamlike state to be there. You are separate and experiencing things voyeuristically. Well, that’s how it feels to me.

I remember once being quite ill as a child, and I could hear my family discussing me in the living room. I’m sure they thought I was asleep or they were talking softly enough. My brother said I was faking and my sister felt I was taking up too much of the family’s attention. My mom admitted she was run off her feet. I guess all of them were just feeling cranky because of the “sickie”. The interesting thing was hearing them speaking honestly, not the way they would have had I been (knowingly) with earshot. Being ill, I had the distance I’ve spoken of above and it lent the whole episode a very surrealistic air.

My childhood imagination immediately projected me as being dead and I started daydreaming about what that might be like. Had I felt better, I might have written something. Even in those days, I would write “books”, although they generally would be only 10 pages in length!

Well, that’s all I have the energy for at the moment, so it will have to do for this week.

Stay well, everyone, and stay away from this flu bug! It is no fun at all.

5 comments:

Donis Casey said...

Feel better! The one time I suffered from extreme vertigo is the one time in my life it occurred to me that if I knew I was never going to get over the continual dizziness, I might prefer just to go ahead and die because life would not be worth living. Sending you healing thoughts through the ether.

Sybil Johnson said...

Hope you get better soon! I had vertigo for about 6 months once. Very frightening especially in the swiftness of its onset. Sending healing thoughts as well.

Rick Blechta said...

Send Scotch, preferrably a single malt from Islay!

Seriously, thanks. Feeling better slowly. And you're right Sybil; vertigo is no fun!

Eileen Goudge said...

Feel better, Rick! Get plenty of rest and eat lots of chicken soup. You must be feeling better if you were able to get any writing done. I know the feeling you describe. I recently had surgery for a torn rotator cuff in my right arm, and in the days following the surgery when I was forced to sit on the sofa with nothing to do all day except read, I went a little crazy. My normal "clock" is accelerated. When I'm immersed in my writing, I lose all track of time and hours can seem like minutes. When I'm stuck in one place without my laptop (or ability to use it) time is...well, real time. Must be what punching in for a 9 to 5 job is like. Makes me all the more grateful for my chosen profession.

Rick Blechta said...

Torn rotator cuff, Eileen? Ouch!

So are you going to be ready for the start of spring training? ;)