Three Lessons from my Sickbed

My pharynx hosted a microscopic invader under a layer of oozy phlegm this week while the rest of me made sure I could do no more than moan about it, literally. What's a pharynx, anyways?  The offspring of a pharaoh and a sphinx ? Well, no. Turns out it's a little spot behind the mouth and the nose and is made up of his three other Egyptian sounding bits: nasopharynx, oropharynx, and laryngopharynx.

Anyways, medical terminology aside, who knew that an infection of this little spot could knock me out like drinking 7 Neocitran martinis? And still after 6 days in bed and a handful of antibiotics, I still have as much interest for food as I might for the reproductive cycle of a household moth and as much luster as crusty leftover oatmeal in a pot.  So what does sickness remind me of when lying in bed and growing corns on my back?

One, I'm still a kid. I may have an adult body, but really I'm still 4 years old. I want my mommy. I want homemade soups and someone to rub my head until I fall asleep.

Two, I am weak. Weak like a kid with a box of M&Ms. No matter how many times I jump on a stationary bike sipping on a green drink to stay fit, if the handle bars are harboring a teeny-weeny, microscopic virus- Bam! I'm out like a light.

Three, my insides are disgusting. Especially when they try to escape to the outside. But on the other hand they serve as proof that I really am sick and I need to be in my quarantined bed with my books and my Kleenex which for any mom is almost like a holiday.