This week I am tired in a different way than I was tired last week. Over the week-end, we took one of our great driving tours of the southeast.
By great, I mean long.
My spouse is on the Board of Trustees for a group of Lutheran church camps. This past week-end, we went to Lutheranch, in western Georgia, for a Board meeting.
I knew I was fighting off a cold, but on Thursday, somewhere between my house and Jacksonville, Florida, the cold began to win.
I have spent the last 5.5 days coughing. I am sore. I am aware of my body's system of muscles and ligaments in a way that only comes after days of straining into and out of spasms of coughing. I am aware of my body's cavities in ways that are only possible as my body fights off a cold and develops unusual tidal pools in the crustaceous bed of my skull.
I can't decide whether or not to write a poem about these feelings or about the different ways we've been using the word "sequestration": choosing a pope, slashing the Federal budget. I am trying to sequester myself away from healthy people so that they don't get my cold.
Yes, I have been taking over the counter meds. They are moderately effective. I don't usually get the kind of cold that has me by the throat this time. Usually, cold meds wipe out whatever is afflicting me. Not this time, although they bring a bit of relief.
If I have to suffer a cold, it was better to have one this past week-end than it would have been the week-end before. While my husband went to his Board meetings, I stayed in bed. The week-end before, I needed to be leading workshops. I'm glad I maintained my health for that week-end.
Having a cold makes me grateful for my usual robust good health. I am ready to return to the land of good health. I am lucky to have a short journey ahead of me. There are so many people who can see the land of good health all around them, but have no way to get there, no boat, no bridge. I am aware of my good fortune.
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