Last Saturday I woke up, full of plans for the day. A long walk, some writing, maybe a movie...who knows, I might even do a little housework! I went downstairs to make some coffee, but decided maybe I was still a little tired. Plenty of time, so I went back to bed. And slept two more hours, something I never do.
When I woke up, I knew I was sick. Flat-out, nausea-and-vomiting sick. Blazing headache and unrelenting vertigo. I spent the next 24 hours in a horizontal position, either in my bed or on the cool bathroom floor. Miserable...and alone.
Here's the thing: when you live by yourself, you also get to be sick by yourself. No one pops in to see if you'd like a soothing orange popsicle or a refreshing glass of ginger ale. Craving chicken noodle soup? Great, just haul yourself out of bed and make it. As soon as the room stops spinning.
On one hand, I could sleep for hours without anyone asking me what was for dinner. When you're nauseated, that's a real plus. On the other hand, I could sleep for hours without anyone remotely concerned with my alarming state of health. I managed to get to the kitchen once; otherwise, I was glued to the bed, willing to sell my soul for a beverage. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm here to tell you that I peed once in 24 hours. Dehydration ruled the day.
Single people know what I mean. We can plan for the flu, keeping a few items ready. I happen to like canned peaches when I emerge from days of feeling awful. Others prefer childhood favorites, like macaroni and cheese from the blue box. Sherbet. Grilled cheese. Applesauce. Jello. Since no one is going to dash to the store on our behalf, we need to be prepared. Then pull on our old ratty robes, run our hands through our greasy hair, and go to the pantry. At which point we decide it's not worth the effort, and return to our sickbeds. Not a recommended method for weight loss.
In a day or two, we'll recover. (Although each of us vaguely wonders how long it would be before others realize we've gone missing...) We'll manage to shower and brush our teeth. Change the bedding. And re-enter society. We've navigated illness without someone to put a cool washcloth to our brow, plump our pillow, and check to see if we're still breathing. A small victory, to be sure.
People think that solo travel is the hardest part about being alone. I'm here to tell you, that's a snap.
Yes, we do survive somehow, but this one particular area of singledom, illness, emphasizes that one truly is the loneliest number. Ironically, one of the things I missed the most after my husband of 24 years and I went our separate ways was his nurturing capacities. When I was sick, he brought me food, conducted frequent checks on me, doled out affection, concern and medication. I really did appreciate all that he did for me. These days, with a long-gone mama and six years post divorce, being sick really is a solitary experience. And it's not fun..(So glad that you're feeling better)!
Posted by: Amy Johnsen | 03/24/2015 at 09:28 AM
Although married, I have been on my own with illness a couple of times and know how scary and sad it is. The worst was when I passed out and woke up on the bathroom floor, not badly injured but feeling really desolate with my husband gone on a business trip.
I shudder to think what my mother went through all the years she was alone, and my mother in law too. They never wanted to "bother us" with their problems, so we would not know until after the fact that they had been ill. We lived far away in Europe for so many years.
My regards and hope you are feeling OK again.
Posted by: Hattie | 03/27/2015 at 08:46 PM