I am simply no good at being sick

I don't know what the AI Blog Post Image Generator
did to this guy's right eye...

Last month I was sidelined for close to a week with some sort of bug. Not sure if it was bacterial or viral or what, but I generally felt crummy, spent a few days with heavy congestion, coughed a lot near the end of it, and passed my days sitting around gaining weight and being bored.

And that, you see, was the problem. Whereas many people I know would welcome the excuse to take it easy and watch TV, I can't stand it. I am the world's worst relaxer. I much prefer to be on the go, getting stuff done and being active.

My patience wears thin very quickly on those occasions when I come down with something. After a day or two I end up annoyed that I'm still sick. Which I realize is unrealistic, BUT I HAVE NO TIME TO BE SICK.

I don't become sterotypically pathetic and whiny like a lot of men do when they get sick. I become angry and whiny. Why is this happening to me? Why?? Why now?? This cold or flu or whatever it is needs to go away RIGHT NOW.

But of course it never goes away until it chooses to go away. Which is usually days later than I would have preferred.

Last month's sickness (again, whatever it was) spanned a weekend, and I spent that Saturday on the couch with Cheddar the cat on my lap watching "Forrest Gump," "Apollo 13," a few episodes of "Law and Order: SVU," and portions of the Army-Navy football game.

Sounds like a nice day, right?

I hated it. Hated almost every minute of it. I was antsy the whole time, but I couldn't deny that I felt much better staying on the couch than I would have if I had gotten up and tried to do household chores or whatever.

The previous evening I had served as the PA announcer at our local high school for a girls basketball game, which in retrospect was not smart. My voice was cracking from the start, and by the end of the game it had devolved into a barely discernable rasp.

I should have called off.

But calling off would have meant acknowledging that I was sick, and I didn't want to be sick, so I simply ignored reality and risked passing my nasty germs on to others in attendance.

Which was selfish and dumb.

Here's the thing: One day I will die, and so will you. As Sally Field says in "Forrest Gump," death is just a part of life. When it happens, I pray it will be quick and easy, because I lack the mental fortitude to lay in a hospital bed declining for weeks or months on end.

It's more likely I will die in our bathroom, having just cleaned the sink and toilet.

But at least I'll die happy.