Tread lightly on the things of earth

I’ve been out for the count since last Sunday under the Influenza de Diablo (influencia del diablo). Now I know why I’m always careful to get a flu shot each year: getting hit by a truck might be kinder.

The doctor prescribed Tamiflu on Monday. Taking it may account for my first steps back to the living today, five days later, instead of some time next week. Even so, for most of these five days, honestly, dying seemed like an easier choice than living.

I always thought if I were struck by some infirmity that left me impaired and/or bedridden, I’d be okay because I’m interested enough in enough things that I could always keep myself fruitfully occupied. This flu reminded me there are some infirmities that strip you so completely of the ability to “rest easy” that you can’t do much of anything, you can find no place of comfort. The best you can do is be, and sometimes that’s a stretch.

I don’t remember having tasted quite this visceral level of health hopelessness before; I’m humbled to learn how easily this paralysis of spirit was able to take me. I want to let this experience stretch my empathy and understanding toward others afflicted by disease and beset by hopelessness, especially those for whom rising up on the sixth day is considerably less likely. The triumph of those who triumph commands all my respect.