I rarely ever get sick. (Praise Jesus. For real. Exceeding thankful that we are a healthy household). But there are two strands of virus that will take me down faster than a hunter in a tree stand shadowing a buck: the stomach virus that we get EVERY year, and this weird throat thing that I personally acquire twice a year.
Last week and into this weekend, it was number two: the weird throat thing. I always have a hoarseness to my voice until about noon each day (my brother refers to this as my “Jill Taylor” voice from Home Improvement) but usually, once in early summer and then again in fall, I will completely lose my voice for several days, and my throat will be so swollen that it hurts to swallow. I do the normal round of antibiotics and herbal tea and am back to my normal self.
This time it was different.
It started as a sore throat, which I totally ignored, because ain’t NOBODY got time for that, then it spiraled into the lost voice, and then achy bones and muscles that have forced me onto the couch to watch season seven of Friends on DVD and curl up like a bear hibernating while my children play with kitchen utensils and foil star stickers and OH MY WORD what is that pink stuff on the floor?
(Except there is no OH MY WORD because I am like Ariel when Ursula takes her voice. Except I cannot swim and I am also not animated. Also? I cannot sing and mermaids are fictional creatures. Other than that, it’s just like Ariel.)
I am much like a man when it comes to visiting healthcare professionals. In other words, someone has to drag me there half-dead to even consider it. I knew better this time, though, and willingly gave in to visit this minute-clinic (location of said clinic will remain nameless), to which I was informed that I have a virus (really? SHOCKING) and was given something for the throat swelling but no antibiotics because those do not help viruses and then he made fun of the book I was reading.
He read the cover of the book aloud (if you read my Ocotber goals you know the book to which I am referring) and after I explained in a whisper voice that she was a blogger and the book was a collection of her short stories and that she was a recovering alcoholic and has turned her life around for Jesus, and that I am NOT a recovering alcoholic but love Jesus and equally need Him, he startled me with the following:
Well, geez. If bloggers can write BOOKS, then we are going to have a whole slew of “authors” on our hands, huh?
OH. NO. HE. DID. NOT.
(Side note: I am on the couch typing this, and I am pretty sure I hear them dragging out my monogrammed butter knives. Just a quick FYI for you.)
So, in a Walter Mitty moment, I pictured myself standing up, going on day 2 of those jeans and shaking my unwashed hair in defiance and saying: “Huh, DOC. Kind of like you working in a minute clinic instead of Vanderbilt, huh? No? That’s what I THOUGHT. You love being a doctor and helping the sick like bloggers love to write. SO who cares?!”
BUT I didn’t because he had not handed me the prescription yet. Oh, and the whole NO VOICE thing really put a damper on my plans.
So, here’s the thing on being sick and still being a mother. LIFE GOES ON regardless if you are wearing your red lipstick on a playdate or your red thermal shivering on the couch. Laundry needs to be done, farm animals need to be fed, and you realize what grace means.
It is kind of hard to whisper-yell at your kids. Trust me, I have tried it.
Your floor may have dried cereal all over it and clippings of construction paper may litter the tile like confetti, but it’s not affecting anyone else but you. Relax.
Sometimes I think we run and rant and revel so much that it takes a weird throat thing to LITERALLY stop us in our tracks and force us to rest.
To realize the world is NOT going to end if the beds are not made today.
When Jesus says in Matthew 11:28 to come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest he is talking to the mothers, the sick, the recovering alcoholics, the doctors who press on your sinuses just a little too hard, and the bloggers turned authors.
He is talking to YOU.
Oh, and now they are dragging out drinking straws and making swords out of them. HAVE MERCY.