Sick, and stuff

/ Jeff Cann

01/01/2025

We woke up sick, both of us at the same time, Susan more obvious than me. Her voice scratched out “good morning“ as I tiptoed past her mattress tucked under the ping pong table in the basement. My only detectable symptom was a sore throat, and not really all that sore yet. Where do germs come from? We drove the seven-hour trip to Susan’s brother’s house two days earlier. That seems like the right incubation period. Maybe the McDonald’s burger-slinger had a cold.

A half hour later, as I coughed over my coffee cup, Susan looked on with concern. “Are you sick or is this coughing a tic?” When I’m trapped around others 24/7, my tics morph. Gone is the pervasive Tourette-fueled grunting of my private moments, often it’s replaced with coughing. My coughing tics frequently result in admonishments from Susan of “cover your mouth.” I contend that since there’s no illness behind the coughs, no germs are being spread. On this morning, though, I coughed into my sleeve like a well-behaved grade-schooler. By nightfall, at the end of our drive home, the cooties I coughed out of my lungs were clearly potent. I’ve felt like crap ever since.

When was I last sick? I caught a mild case of Covid two and a half years ago, but I barely noticed. I only tested myself because I had just worked a super-spreader event, a massive three day used book sale with thousands of shoppers. Others who attended had already tested positive. During my week off work, I went for daily bike rides and sat on my screened in porch reading novels. That was more of a vacation than an illness. This is far worse.

For the past six days, I’ve been constructing a playlist for tomorrow night’s spin class. I never put in effort like this. Usually, I just grab sixteen songs I like and plan some appropriate drills. Since this is the first class of the year, likely jammed with the New Year, New You resolution crowd, I was shooting for a different vibe. Something mellow and uplifting, not my usual abrasive punk/classic rock offerings. Instead, twangy alt-country tracks by singer-songwriters like Sheryl Crow and Mary Chapen Carpenter; haunting/moody tunes by Suzanne Vega; droning pop selections from Ace of Base. I envisioned a relaxed, sweaty mess motivated by an enthusiastic coach rather than a pounding beat. Maybe some other time, I just called in sick. A substitute instructor will take the class.

The texts rolled in all morning: Have a happy and healthy new year. I’m off to a bad start. Certainly not healthy and therefore not so happy. I’ve ridden the couch most of the day. Susan said, “It’s cold and gray, you’re not missing anything.”

I said, “Well, in the distant past, I’d be hungover and throwing up. Being sick is better than that.” Before the internet, was it possible to go viral? In the early nineties, on a wild New Year’s Eve, I stopped by several parties and also went to the final show ever at d.c. space, a Washington DC alternative rock club. Like many of my party nights of that era—that era being marked by unbridled alcoholism—I couldn’t remember most of the night’s activities.  For a few weeks following New Year’s, a group of young adults I didn’t know watched and rewatched a video recording dozens of times.

Interviewer with the camera: Hello sir, what is your new year’s resolution for 1992?

Extremely drunk, athletic looking guy with glasses, slurring: I resholve to never go to a party empty handed. If shomeone takes the time to invite me, I’ll take the time to put together a gift. It can be anything really; nothing’sh too inshignificant. Even a shmall dish of mustard. Next time I come to your party, I’ll bring a shmall dish of mustard.

The mustard guy became legendary. Everyone who saw the video clip fell to the floor with laughter. No one knew who the guy was or where he came from. Like a ghost, he arrived at the party, made the video, and disappeared. Weeks later, my brother connected with a friend in this group and finally saw the video. “Oh,” he said, “that’s my brother, Jeff.” If this happened thirty years later, I would have been a worldwide meme.

Today is better than that. Happy New Year.

Image by Thomas from Pixabay

27 thoughts on “Sick, and stuff”

  8. Thank you Jeff.
    BTW 2025 has started well. Zsor-zsor took her first step today, with me supporting her. She’s been doing a sideways drag of the foot for a while now for assisted transfers (e.g. from wheelchair to bed or couch) but suddenly wanted to step forward.
    ~
    Of all the exercises we have done, I think the most useful has been moving the hips gently from side to side whilst being supported.
    I transformed that exercise into a slow dance to music because I reckon that enjoyment should be part of healing. I think that helped to build the confidence to step out. And even if it didn’t, we’ll keep dancing.

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    • Ah, I was hoping it would be apparent. While visiting my brother in law, we needed to sleep in their basement because of space. Not much room down there. One of us needed to go under the ping pong table. Of course it was Susan because she is endlessly trying to protect me from potential injury such as popping out of bed and banging my head. Happy new year to you too Regan.

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  13. Happy New Year, Jeff. I think you were smart to get the illness out of the way first thing. I hope that you can move on from that very soon, and carry on in excellent health for the rest of the year. : )

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