Or as the rest of the world says, pneumonia. But for now, P-nome-e-ah is how it is pronounced in our house. Because that is the way one of the kids pronounces it and because it has caused pandemonium in our lives.
Yes, after another bout of sickness, my third in three weeks, the doctor did a chest x-ray and discovered I have a rather nasty case of pneumonia. It’s rather like having a guest who won’t leave. The one who abandons wet towels on the hardwood floors and eats you out of house and home. And then leaves all their empties rattling down the front drive.
Let me tell you how bad this is: I don’t feel like knitting. Yes, that bad. And I have another week of staring out of the window from the confines of the couch before I can even start to think about getting up. Not that that I have the strength to. But I chafe at the inactivity and having to just rest. I didn’t even feel up to reading or typing until today. But then again today is the first day in a week I’ve had without a 100+ temp. I call that a milestone. A cause to celebrate.
But without overdoing it.
My poor husband, battered by taking care of a control freak, bad patient like me, the house, the kids and trying to keep up at his job, has called in the reinforcements to make sure I don’t think of overdoing it and he’s called in the heavy hitters: my mom and dad. Mom is here this week, Dad starts his shift on Monday. They know all my tricks so I might as well be in Leavenworth.
And don’t feel too sorry for me. I brought this on myself. I scheduled myself up to my eyebrows for four months straight– traveled, wrote for crazy hours, traveled more, did all the mom things and tried to have it all. I was the proverbial train headed to the bridge Snidely Whiplash has just tied all the dynamite onto. And now I have crashed. Literally. Figuratively.
So the schedule has had to crash as well. Everything, and I mean everything I have scheduled–business and personal–has been sidelined and canceled. I go nowhere until my lungs are clear and the doc thinks that will be a few months. Yes, months.
But there is an upside to all this. When I was a kid, I was often sidelined with asthma. I would spend days looking out at the sky and making up stories. I have found myself doing much the same thing. The next book is starting to take root in my imagination and as I watch the clouds make their lazy way across Puget Sound and the happy, dizzy hummingbirds who inhabit my yard darting about like clownish acrobats, I ponder the next story.
Because right now, pondering is all that is on the menu. That and orange jello.