Nice to see you again. Follow me, @SydneyOwen. Thanks for being here!
I’ve never been good at being weak. Ever. I kind of pride myself on being a total hardass through the end. At least until I get sick. When it comes to getting sick, I’m a total baby. I’ll dramatize it when it’s nothing, but if I’m really sick I’ll try to solve it myself because I’m too stubborn to see a doctor. Lame? Yes. I don’t believe in sick days unless I’m on my death bed.
I’ve grown up though. In college, I’d tell myself that I should go out because surely ample amounts of vodka would help me shake whatever I had come down with (duuuh, I’m mixing it with cranberry juice – which is totally good for you). This time, I came home and went straight to bed. I drank my fluids, I did what I was supposed to. But I couldn’t shake it.
I called my parents Sunday morning for our weekly catch up and my favorite part of the week was cut short. “Sydney, you sound like shit, you need to get to a doctor”.
No fever, no doctor. That’s what I say. But Mom pulled the mom card and I went. Even from 1700 miles away, her scary “I’m the Mom and I say so” face resonates with me. So I trucked it to the closest clinic and waited my turn.
No fever, no doctor. I waited three hours for the lady to tell me that I should pop some ibuprofen and Mucinex-D. Granted, I wouldn’t have come to the Mucinex-D conclusion on my own, so that’s great, but three hours to get told to ride it out was a bit much. Next time I know: no fever, no doctor. Ride it out. (Mom will argue that grown-ups with health insurance make time to see the doctor, and I’ll agree with her in the end, but for now, no fever, no doctor.)
Still, I can’t help but silently wish to myself that I had someone to take care of me. When I was in elementary, middle, high school and even a couple serious sick weekends in college, my parents made me a “comfies bed on the couch”. It was sick-person heaven. Big blankets, copious amounts of 7UP and all the soup you could possibly consume. You were better in 24 hours. Guaranteed.
Now I’m left to my own way of over-coming the cold. Now my go-to remedy of hot and sour soup costs 3x what it did when I was back home, and ::gasp:: I have to get it myself. Now I sit alone in my apartment, without the personal care of my loving parents. What if I was coughing so hard I choked? Nobody would know, because I live by myself. What if I needed to go to the emergency room but couldn’t drive myself? Nobody would know because I live by myself. (Okay, I’m cutting off the drama queen.)
If this is what growing up is all about, this part of growing up sucks.
I don’t do weakness, yet moments like these make me freak out about my future and whether or not I’ll have anyone to take care of me. I’ll shout from the rooftops that I’m happy where I’m at until I’m blue in the face. Because I am. Except for that part about having someone to share all of my exciting moments with. I don’t have someone. Well, I have friends, but you know what I mean.
Even if I had a boyfriend or whatever right now I’d be telling him to stay far, far away so he didn’t get sick too. I’d be whiny and probably a little bit bratty because I HATE being sick. We’d probably get in a small argument about what a whiny brat I am when I’m sick, and then we’d make up.
That’s one argument I wouldn’t mind having right about now.
And then Mom pulls the mom card and makes sense and pulls me out of my delusional bubble I live in when I’m homesick. I whine about how I hate this part of my life – where I’m consumed by the adjustment period, learning to live on a salary, not a bartender’s wages, and am in arguably the worst financial situation I’ve ever been in – and she reminds me that this is leading up to the best part of my life. She reminds me that I’m in a city that is perfect for me and I’m starting out my career two steps ahead of where most of my fellow graduates are. She reminds me that I have an exciting job that I love and that not many people can say that. She reminds me that I’m making friends, good ones this time, and that while all of this sucks right now, once it’s all figured out and everything comes together, it will be glorious.
So maybe growing up isn’t that bad after all.
Oh, and this morning, after a full round of Mucinex-D, guess who’s feeling better? That’s right, I am.
So, are you a drama queen like I am when it comes to being sick? It’s okay, you can tell me. 