shakespearemom

I was struck by the death of Bernie Mac, not only because I really enjoyed his show (it was one of the few comedies on television that didn’t use a laugh track), but because pneumonia is not what I think of when I consider possible causes of death in otherwise healthy people.

And right now, my daughter has “walking pneumonia.” And I discovered, just yesterday, that the last five days of antibiotics–all five days–she didn’t like the medicine, so she has secretly dumped it down the sink when I wasn’t looking. I was devastated when I discovered this, not only because of the deception, but because I was frightened for her. No wonder her cough wasn’t getting better.

And I thought, if I hadn’t sensed the deception, and asked her outright, I wouldn’t have known. And I wouldn’t have called the doctor for help. And she might very well have ended up in the hospital with full-fledged pneumonia…and the list goes on.

But all is okay now. And I will watch her like a hawk when she takes her new medicine.

Naturally (as all you mothers no doubt assumed), I am also sick. The pollen count in the Seattle area is unmeasurably high right now, but it’s too hot to keep the windows shut (few residences here have any airconditioning). Therefore, every morning I wake up with a sore throat and my eyelashes gooped together (my response to allergies, I’m afraid). Yet I also have a cold on top of it, and it has just moved to my chest.

However (and I doubt any of you are expecting this), I can’t say I’m all that broken up about being ill. It isn’t fun, but it gives me the excuse to put off cleaning the bathrooms (again), put off weeding the garden (again), and do as little housework as possible. I can sit around all day and do what I truly love to do: play piano, listen to music, paint, and WRITE. Richard won’t look at me funny if I don’t move off the chair. The kids know I’m sick, so they find things to do, and they even tell each other to be quiet because “Mommy’s sick.”

I don’t want to be spoiled when I’m sick (chicken soup and all that), but I LOVE being able to do fun things instead of chores. I’d rather be well, but I’ll take the advantages that come with it. Who knows, maybe, while I’m watching my daughter eat her medicine, I can get a few more words written on my novel. And maybe the rest will help me get well faster.

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