sick in bed

I always thought that I had a high tolerance for pain up until yesterday when I felt like waving the white flag and screaming, “I give up—I am done with this bullshit.” Never in all my adult years could I ever remember feeling that bad.

Getting sick when you are 9 was kind of fun. You woke up with a sore throat, your mom took your temperature, and then determined whether or not you were fit for learning. After a quick visit to the doctor, you were treated like a king for the rest of the afternoon. You ate ice cream for lunch, watched all of your favorite DVDs, and camped out on the sofa—stretched out from end to end.  

Here is something I discovered recently—getting sick as an adult is one of the worst damn things that can happen to you. There you are just cruising along, feeling good about the direction you’re heading, you’re hair flowing in the wind, and then BAM life throws a surprise monkey wrench in your bicycle tire and you go flailing into the air.

Three days ago I woke up feeling extremely exhausted. As the day progressed I knew what was coming, I was getting sick and there was nothing I could do to stop it, the same way it must feel to have a semi truck coming towards you. When I woke up the next day my tonsils were triple their size. They looked angry—like I had run over their ankles with a shopping cart. "I can fight this," I told myself, “I am a fairly healthy person, I just need to sleep, that’s all." 

Well, after two days of sleeping nonstop, I had finally reached my threshold of pain. My neck had swollen to triple its size, swallowing anything felt like I was drinking shards of glass, and my fever was not waning. I broke down. Yes, even adults cry sometimes. No matter how old I get, I don’t think I’ll ever shake the feeling of needing my mommy when I feel sick. After crying for a few minutes, I felt surprisingly better, not physically of course, but mentally yes. The great part about ‘adulting’ is that you are constantly being tested, what you didn’t think you could ever handle before, you are suddenly handling like a complete and utter boss. 

You’ll never believe how proud I felt after making my way to the doctor, the pharmacy, the grocery store, and back. I survived. I was a survivor! 

So here I am in recovery mode—the worst is definitely behind me. My future is looking brighter and brighter (and my neck slimmer and slimmer) with every pill I throw down the windpipe. To aid in my recovery, I have summoned the Cultural Vibe gods to make good vibes rain down on me. I hope they do the same for you. 

Ma Foom Bey, Cultural Vibe

Nicole Paulus, Nico New Media

Images by Unsplash

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