Musings from a Sick Bed

Most everyone who lives in this world is familiar with flu season. It has a different impact for different people - depending on age, the state of your immune system (or someone you’re responsible for), or your profession. I will say that since my children have entered the school system, my awareness of the season is much more acute.

I received the flu at the end of February. As is the case with anything that forces you to slow down, there were many contemplations that passed through my mind. One of the most accessible thoughts within the first day of being sick, my worst day, was that of my mortality. I felt so horrible. My head ached longingly, my fever soared, my body could do next to nothing aside from writhe. I’m not exaggerating. I wept at how badly I felt. That doesn’t happen. My body made the decision for me, I had to rest or I simply wouldn’t be ok ever again (at least that’s what it felt like). The thing is, I’m a mom so complete rest wasn’t in the cards but I got back in bed whenever I could. And that’s how it went for 5 days. The first couple of days, I was proud of myself and thankful that I had the opportunity to take care of myself without guilt. The last few, including the following week with the residual cough and fatigue, I struggled with the balance between the rest that was still so massively needed and the things that needed my attention and energy.

Within the days, there were a few thoughts that seemed most poignant:

I have this fear of suffocating. Usually by some unseen force, like an allergy or virus that swells my throat that I can no longer breathe. I’ve done work around relaxing with the thought. After all- panicking won’t help anything. This flu provided me with ample opportunities to experience less than ideal breathing. My nose stopped working, my throat felt sore and expanded, my mind had to be comforted that though it felt like it, I most likely wouldn’t die of suffocation this time. Throat lozenges, tea, warm broth, hot showers, repeat, repeat, repeat. As I type this, I am gratefully able to take a deep breath again and I am reminded of how much a full bodied breath can help with overall well being.

I also thought about what it means to be alive when you are so sick. It can be far different than when we are “well.” The author and Buddhist scholar Stephen Levine wrote in A Year to Live about “dying from the common cold” and how “resistance turns pain into suffering, the unpleasant into the unbearable.” Everything is tender when you are sick, it begs for you to listen and feel on a level that sometimes being “well” can keep you from. Sure, we can have moments within our normal, every day lives that evoke deeper awareness and if we refine those skills, those moments can be more available, but there is something about being sick that opens your eyes to priorities. Of course, a terminal illness is different from the common cold, but I found it useful for me to contemplate the commonalities of discomfort and transformation for purposes of self reflection.

One last thought worth noting had to do with what is worth our energy when we have such a limited amount. When I saw the pile of things that needed to be done- laundry, dishes, taking a shower, responding to emails, friends, business, etc. What could wait? All of this din from our lives, we take as things to do and keep us busy and we are so busy, until one day we are not. I recognized that being sick would sometimes amplify the voices of things to do until it all canceled each other out and I was left with the understanding that all I could do was rest my head and body and come back to it when I had the capacity to see things more clearly.

This flu kicked my butt this time and now that I am constantly in contemplation of end-of-this-life experiences, it just became another tool with which I could be more familiar with the present moment. I think anything that allows us to see clearly, to be open and feel more into this humanity is a tool for liberation.