Remember the days when you used to feign sickness? You would discretely hide your thermometer like a makeshift shiv in your pajamas so your parents wouldn't see it. You'd slowly make your way over to whatever light was within your four foot tall reach and then very slyly slip the thermometer's tip over the 60 watt surface.
99, 99.6, 100.1, the temperature would slowly creep up and your little round eyes would widen.
'When to stop? When to stop,' you'd frantically ask yourself.
I always thought 100.5 was a wise temperature. I never truly knew what was "too high" aside from what I saw on early 90s sitcoms. I learned that a temperature over 103 was cause to be dragged from the comfort of your Transformers bedspread and into the car for a visit to the guy who'd poke and prod you and then try and make it all better with an ultra sticky Band Aid with smiley faces on it and a balloon that would deflate as soon as you got it home.
The scariest part of this operation was displaying the thermometer's results to your parents. You didn't want to seem overeager to show them because then they'd smell the lie on you. You'd very nonchalantly walk over to your parents and very uncharacteristically put on a meek and quiet voice proclaiming the results of your self-test.
If you were selective with your sick days, your parents most likely ate this up. They instantly plucked you up off the ground, put you in bed, popped some medicine in your little lying head and then coddled you with Popsicles and your favorite movies. Oh, the good life!
When did sickness cross the line from luxury to something you avoid like the plague (no pun intended-OK maybe a little one)?
This Monday, I had my nose medically violated in ways I can't even begin to fathom spelling. At first, the idea of staying home in the comfort of my down comforter, watching old movies and drinking tea until it came out of my ears delighted me to no end. The second I left the hospital, I knew I'd like to be going anywhere but home. The idea of staying home festering in my own personal sickness no longer thrills me. The idea of wasting a day on a box of tissues, antibiotics and painkillers does nothing to hold my interest.
99, 99.6, 100.1, the temperature would slowly creep up and your little round eyes would widen.
'When to stop? When to stop,' you'd frantically ask yourself.
I always thought 100.5 was a wise temperature. I never truly knew what was "too high" aside from what I saw on early 90s sitcoms. I learned that a temperature over 103 was cause to be dragged from the comfort of your Transformers bedspread and into the car for a visit to the guy who'd poke and prod you and then try and make it all better with an ultra sticky Band Aid with smiley faces on it and a balloon that would deflate as soon as you got it home.
The scariest part of this operation was displaying the thermometer's results to your parents. You didn't want to seem overeager to show them because then they'd smell the lie on you. You'd very nonchalantly walk over to your parents and very uncharacteristically put on a meek and quiet voice proclaiming the results of your self-test.
If you were selective with your sick days, your parents most likely ate this up. They instantly plucked you up off the ground, put you in bed, popped some medicine in your little lying head and then coddled you with Popsicles and your favorite movies. Oh, the good life!
When did sickness cross the line from luxury to something you avoid like the plague (no pun intended-OK maybe a little one)?
This Monday, I had my nose medically violated in ways I can't even begin to fathom spelling. At first, the idea of staying home in the comfort of my down comforter, watching old movies and drinking tea until it came out of my ears delighted me to no end. The second I left the hospital, I knew I'd like to be going anywhere but home. The idea of staying home festering in my own personal sickness no longer thrills me. The idea of wasting a day on a box of tissues, antibiotics and painkillers does nothing to hold my interest.
Why is it that everything seemed to hold more charm and promise when you were little? Being sick was a vacation; your favorite foods tasted like rare delicacies; and just a single article of clothing transformed you from child to astronaut.
6 comments:
you used to WANT to pretend you were sick? yuck. I was always sick for real so much that I hated being sick haha. We also had rules in my house about that. If you missed a day of school, I'd also not be able to go out that nite or the weekend following. Which ususally wasnt a bad thing considering I was sick haha. Now I control my own sick days. haha.
C'mon! Faking sickness was a cornerstone in a child's life. You had to do it at least once! All the cool kids on tv did it! My parents were like that too though. You miss meeting, you miss recreation, you miss tv... Now I o.d. on Emer Gen C just so I don't miss a meeting, service or anything else.
Oy... I look like Miss Piggy still. Evil sinuses.
haha YES! The childhood sickness gag! My favorites were the hot towel to the face {make sure you heat up the ears- they always check the ears} and I also soon figured out that putting the thermometer in hot water cuts down on the risk of coming back with a far too hot tempurature.
But I do agree that being sick has lost the certain luster it had when I was young. I think it must be mostly due to the consequences of said sickness, {missed meetings, service, sometimes work} and the fact that once you get to an age or position in your life where you have to nurse yourself- you become highly conflicted on how to treat the patient..lol. & self-done back rubs are not too comforting. I think on the self doctoring part I would qualify as an HMO at best. haha
oh, and you don't look like Miss. Piggy my lovely friend ;)
-Maureen
Yeah.... pullin' a "Sickie" was one of my favorites.
My parents where very canny though and could generally discern when I was feigning. Robbin' you mums face powder kinda worked or lippy to make you look red-faced. Of course, though not recommended.... the old self-induced barf with the finger always worked well.
Nowadays....being an adult, sickies are kinda pointless as I work for myself, so it's kinda retrograde to the pocket to do it. HHHMMMMPPPhhhh!!! :-(
I find that a morning in bed, recognized and rationalized suffices. Soz that you are unwell. Just neck some JD and watch Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, that always cheers me up.
JJ
One Word - Imagination.
A childs imagination makes things seem much different than what they are in reality.
Which is surely part of why "foolishness lies in the heart of a boy".
Ahh a trip down memory lane...My mom used to be an elementary school secretary, and she filled in for the school nurse, so I got away with NOTHING when it came to being "sick." If I wasn't puking, bleeding or mostly dead, I was at school pumped up with sudafed, emetrol, or tylenol. But when I WAS sick, although I hated it, the plus side was that Mom always made from-scratch chicken soup, put fresh pillowcases on my pillows right away, (when you're a kid who feels icky it's so soothing to have a cool crisp pillow to lay your fevered little face on) and made tea. Now when I'm sick I mostly just feel sorry for myself, take medicine, and sleep. But one should never underestimate the power of a dose of vitamin C and zinc. (Airborne being the vehicle of choice for said supplements)
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