I am seriously starting to think that there is a psychosomatic connection in my house between eating omelets for supper and getting sick in the middle of the night. This is the second time in the last two months that this has happened. Perhaps it's coincidental. Perhaps I have actually bought two batches of bad eggs. Perhaps we just caught the flu and I have a tendency to want to cook eggs when I am feeling under the weather. Perhaps it's all in my head, but regardless of those coincidences, Alexander and I are at home today, feeling very below the weather.
If you recall a blog I wrote in September called "Hallucinogenic Artistry" I discussed the connection between illness and creativity. Here I am writing, and my son is creating some kind of duct tape wizardry magic in his studio. We should be in bed, but we're compelled to do other things. (I think we're just both very defiant people and refuse to succumb to the illness wholeheartedly. We just take "breaks" and spontaneously nap or barf, then get back to as we were......)
But it made me think about the quintessential "sick bed". Do you remember where you used to be when you were sick as a child? I remember one woman telling me that she had chronic asthma as a young girl, and her mother used to keep her in bed for exorbitant amounts of time. Her mom would give her a shot of whiskey to keep her in a bit of a mind muddle, so that she remained idle and didn't want to be too active, triggering an asthmatic attack. She also said that she borrowed a whole set of encyclopedias from somebody, and read them all in her mildly drunken stupor. Amazing. To this day, the woman is an avid reader, and has managed to outgrow her asthma and drinking habits.
I was always allowed to crawl in to my parent's bed when I was sick. My dad would be gone to work, and my mom would be doing something or another around the house, and would pop in on me to see how I was doing. This made me feel exceptionally special. I always got sick around Valentine's Day, practically every year. Annually, my sister had to take my hand written Valentines to school to give to the teacher to give to my classmates, and at the end of the day, my sister would come home with my carefully, creatively decorated envelope (that was usually made in art class the week before Valentine's day....we have really come leaps and bounds with the art curriculum in school) stuffed full of Valentines. I missed out on the excitement of seeing the guy I had a crush on putting a Valentine in the envelope that was taped to my desk. One year I even missed out on being the lead character of a Valentine's Day play that my Grade 3 teacher had arranged. We were going to invite parents in to watch the play and share snacks with us afterward. Instead, I was at home coughing and barfing and someone else got the limelight. But I will always remember that my Dad would come home for lunch, and sneak into the room with a Valentine's card and a treat of some kind for me....chocolates or a cute little trinket. Being in the sick bed on Valentine's Day wasn't so bad after all.
And my son is in on a "sick bed tradition" now too. Usually I bring all of the blankets from the house to my bedroom and lay them out on the floor like a big mattress and we all sleep on the floor together; including Sandy the Wonder Dog, a ton of books and a bucket. I do this for a couple of reasons; 1) Alexander is closer to the bathroom in case he has to get up quickly and he won't fall out of a bed because he's at ground level, 2) I am right beside him so I can hear him if he does happen to get sick and 3) there's nothing better than knowing that you're surrounded by family and that someone is there to take genuine care of you when you're not feeling well. I truly think the extra TLC is what helps a person heal.
And I can't help but yet again think of artists, cooped up in their homes, fighting their own health demons, like Frida Kahlo, trapped in a broken body in bed. She asked her father for some art supplies which triggered a life long creative connection between art and health. She may have gone in a completely different direction had she not been "stuck" with her own thoughts for weeks and weeks and weeks at a time. She taped a mirror to the ceiling of her bed's canopy and painted portraits of herself. She too defied her health and in between illness, created beauty.
Feelin' Lucky
Feelin' lucky
All around
Go back in the bush
Blueberries on the ground
Can't wait to get home
Eat 'em fresh with cream
So delicious
Is this all a dream?
Feelin' lucky
Goin' down the 105
Long windin' road
So glad to be alive
Runs past Ear Falls
To Vermilion Bay
Dodgin' moose and skunks
A-long the way
Bears at the dump
Fish that jump
Lakeview pancakes
Ice roads on lakes
Soccer at the park
Fires at dark
Lucky to live here
Any time of year
Feelin' lucky
On my bike
Headin' down the hill
Get a treat I like
Lemon lime slushie
Sour, icy treat
So cool and tasty
It can't be beat
Feelin' lucky
Shooting star went by
Almost missed it
Flashed right through the sky
So full of stars
Miles and miles up high
Twinklin' in the deep blue
I'm such a lucky guy
Bears at the dump
Fish that jump
Lakeview pancakes
Ice roads on lakes
Soccer at the park
Fires at dark
Lucky to live here
Any time of year
Feelin' lucky
Slidin' down the slope
At Kinsmen Beach
No wipe outs I hope
'Cause that hill is huge
Slippery and steep
Children at the bottom
Piled in a heap
Feelin' lucky
Livin' where we do
Surrounded by trees
And furry critters too
We know our neighbours
Know 'em all by name
Lucky to live here
I hope you feel the same
Bears at the dump
Fish that jump
Lakeview pancakes
Ice roads on lakes
Soccer at the park
Fires at dark
Lucky to live here
Any time of year
By Alexander Laevens and Rhonda Bobinski
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