I threw a pity party last week, and no one showed up. Even I found it to be rather pathetic. I blame it on a nasty head cold and upper respiratory mess, and all is better now, I assure you. Of course, this happened while my buddy, Kathy, was sending me texts and emails from her visit to sunny California. I retaliated by hacking onto the computer screen and into the phone. Now that made me feel better!
I am a pitiful patient, to be sure. Wait, a patient implies a caretaker. Cancel that. I am just plain pitiful when I’d rather spend the day tucked under my covers, curled up with my favorite box of tissues, than do anything else. When a friend asked if I needed anything or if she could bring me some soup, I assured her, I had good food on hand. That was true. What I didn’t have on hand was someone to heat it up, serve me and then, clean up. Pitiful, I know.
While my inflamed sinuses made me hungry for the soothing feel of warm mashed potatoes, my sore throat cried for popsicles. Neither was satisfied. Now mind you, this was not the worst cold of my life, nor worse than anyone else’s bad cold. But when you do online searches for neck and head transplants including all the inner mechanics, it’s bad enough.
Then a funny thing happened. I was called into action to help a friend facing a huge medical challenge. I made some calls, sent some emails and did some coordinating, and in the process, totally forgot how lousy I felt. My head cleared up and I found energy that had been lost for a few days. It’s funny how making someone else feel better has the same result on you, isn’t it?
When my friend gets through her ordeal, it will be time for another party, but this time, pity won’t be invited.