Unfixed

Apparently my body had its own solution for all my stress. On Saturday I went into the city, taught a workshop, got lunch with a friend, and then started to feel poorly. I initially attributed my aches to a hangover, but it seemed odd that the later in the day it got, and the more water I drank, the worse I felt. I started aching all over and my head was pounding, so I scooted myself home and, sure enough, within an hour and a half my temperature had shot up to 102 degrees and I was laying in bed, fully-clothed, under a pile of blankets and cats, compulsively shaking and shivering. As I lay there, seeing my impending death coming closer, I envisioned several scenarios:

1. Perhaps the terrorists (you know who you are) had unleashed some biological warfare in Times Square, and I was one of the first of millions to have contracted this powerful disease. If I called the hospital, they would probably either ship me to some strange medical facility and no one would ever hear from me again, or quarantine me in my house with ZPJ and the cats. ZPJ and I would probably die in one anothers arms, but what about the cats? No one would come pick them up from our house - we were under quarantine! Besides, all of our friends would be too busy trying to save their own asses to worry about my cats! And we couldn't just let them go. There is no way these girls could survive on the mean streets of Brooklyn once martial law had been established. At what point would we have to start talking about a suicide pact...?
2. Maybe I just had your average life-threatening illness, and when all the people in my life realized how serious it was, they would fly to New York to wait by my bedside, praying for me to pull out of my fevered delusions long enough for them to beg my forgiveness for the various crap they've pulled on me. I would, of course, grant them forgiveness, but remind them how fragile life is and how they had better reform their ways before they pushed away anyone else. There would be many tears, and everyone would mourn losing someone as wise and benevolent as me.
3. Perhaps I had one of those old-timey fevers that make you blind, and I would be like Laura's sister, Mary, in The Little House on the Prairie, who gets a fever and goes blind. Everyone would talk about how it shouldn't have happened to someone as sweet and kind as me, and how this burden just proved my sweetness and would whisper to one another in admiring tones, "and you never hear her utter a word of complaint." And they'd be right.

None of these came to pass, though. I just had strep, or the flu, or an infection of some sort. My doctor wasn't too curious about finding out which, but the antibiotics seemed to help out a little bit and I'm finally able to swallow things without my throat seizing up, so it seems that I'm on the mend. My fever is even down.

Here are some of the things I slept through this week:

• 2 hard-to-schedule rehearsals
• 3 workshops in New Jersey
• 2 days of residency workshops
• 12 office hours
• 1 planning meeting
• 4 beautiful days of spring.