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2002-01-12

The sickness is settling in. It seems to feel very comfortable in my lungs and in my nose and in the space in my head between my ears. I have been trying to make it feel unwelcome with a lot of echinacea and orange juice and cranberry juice and even some little pills which are symptom relievers, so I can get to work and do what needs to be done. It is not getting the hint, and consequently I feel oozy and groggy and like the last thing in the world I should do today is get out of bed and go to work. BUT, it is the week when I have no choice. If things do not fall apart I may leave early. I will most likely cancel my dinner date with my highschoolbuddy, much as that pains me. But the thing must be driven out before Monday when the 12 to 14 hour days begin. Ugh.

So, the good thing about being sick is when someone cares enough about you to call you up when she wakes up, even though she is suffering from an ill advised evening of long island iced teas, and says that she is driving down to see you at lunchtime with some chicken soup. And although your instinct is to say "Oh, you don't have to go to all that trouble for me" instead you accept gratefully because you can sense that it is genuine. A genuine desire to take care of you, which is not loaded down with any kind of hidden agenda. Some things can be simple and sweet. And then she arrives and she has not only the soup with bowls and spoons so that she can sit and eat with you for half an hour before she has to go to work, but also littledebbie heart shaped snack cakes. And there is sweet quiet conversation and there are back rubs and hugs and you feel warm and protected and energized. And the workday goes a little quicker.

And then you go to the gallery and drink cranberry juice hand over fist and you are feeling so under the weather that you really don't know why you are there, but then she finds you and you sit down with your knees touching and you have some serious talks about childhoods and death, and it all seems so out of place but necessary, real and true, and you see eventually other people you wanted to see and some of them act strange and distant and you wonder, is it because of ME, of the fact that I am doing this thing, or is it because their lives have plummetted where mine has soared?

It was like that, yes, and I was a little sad but I did not have the energy to be witty and sparkling and I sought out the company of the people who did not expect me to be. And I left really early just when everyone was deciding what their next move should be, once the beer had run out. My next move was home to bed. And it felt great.

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