Last Tuesday I felt fine, all day and all night. On Wednesday, I woke up with a funny feeling in my throat, the kind of feeling that says, “Batten down the hatches; you have a cold coming on.” Since I was unsure what or where my hatches were and I wouldn’t know how to batten them if I did, I just worried. I worried about what events I might have to miss if I really did get sick.
I hadn’t had a cold—or any illness—in at least 18 months, so I was insulted. How dare these organisms attack my nearly perfect record? I pretended the funny throat was just some morning reaction to dust mites and went on to work.
By noon, I was in the throes of major post-nasal drip (did I forget to warn your about the ick factor here?) and feeling lousy. I went home early and crawled into bed.
This went on for several days, although I did manage to drag myself out of bed and into the shower on Saturday to get ready for a restaurant party that we were hosting. At the party, I was a good citizen and refused to hug or kiss anyone, or even touch the loaf of communal bread. Back home, I got into bed again.
Rather than exit quickly as I surely thought this cold would, given my otherwise healthy immune system, it seemed to hang around, leaving me fatigued and unmotivated. I went to work and even went shopping, but I felt like my head was in a fog.
Now it’s day 13, and I do feel better. Not yet motivated, but that’s another issue altogether. I’m never one to take good health for granted, but at this age any illness, no matter how common, makes me think about how I would react to something serious (God forbid).
All this leads me to be thankful on this Rosh Hashanahfor the decent health I have—and the diseases and disorders I don’t have. I’m hoping this thankfulness will be plus points to shorten the list of sins I have to atone for next week, on Yom Kippur.