There was no "Day 1" post because, unlike today, I spent most of yesterday either in bed, or walking around at half speed in a drug-enduced stupor. Today I'm much more alert, God be praised, but continue to spend the day at home--sort of an "ounce of prevention" thing. Not enjoying it at all though; emotions and what we do with them when we get knocked off our feet are tricky.
At first I thought my initial frustration was due to the fact that this is the first week of school back with the kids, I need to be there and meet them, I need to establish rapport, yadda yadda yadda...which is true, but anyone who looks honestly at the first week of school knows that, instructionally speaking, not a whole lot goes down. So whence the frustration?
Mostly, I figured out last night, it stems from my not getting sick a whole lot. Really, ask my students. They complain when they come up the stairs and see me, day after day, "Man, you never get a sub!" So all of a sudden, here I am on Monday, at school, with a back ache, a neck ache, and pain in my scalp and behind my eyes, and a little feeling of drainage, the beginning of chills...and I know something's wrong. Turns out, the doctor said, that it's probably an upper respiratory infection--hence my four-prescription cocktail they have me on for the next few days.
Losing control of one's body...I've seen a man who was absolutely reduced to a growling, raging lunatic because of it, and I've seen a man (my grandfather) who changed from an abusive alcoholic to a much humbler, gentler (though perhaps no happier) man. Sickness to me--at least, before the medications, when I was really feeling down--was a reminder of just how much dust I am, how helpless. Regaining a part of that strength back yesterday, yet still being unable to go to school and teach--now that was difficult. The old trusting in the chariots and horses tied into the "reins of my body," as the prayer says, came back strong, leaving me to wonder where the blessed submission went, the mindfulness of my own weakness. Also left me wondering just how often we "use God" in our prayers, when so very often we think we are being sincere. We say all the prayers, use the anointing oil, etc when we have no other option (because we can barely stand up), but when given the choice between our strength, once returned, and a continued awareness of God's necessity...many of us act like my daughter: once we have whatever it is that we're crying for, we're off like a shot to do it ourselves, blissfully ignorant of needing any Others' help.
Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all that He hath done for thee / Who is gracious unto all thine iniquities, Who healeth all thine infirmities...