8 January 2013
My sore body ached and throbbed, and my dropping limbs felt pumped full of lead. My words came out a rasp from my raw, enflamed throat. Thoughts swam around in a muddy, murky mess inside my pounding head. It hurt to move, to lift a finger. As close as the couch was to my room, I could hardly make it without tumbling to the carpet in an ill sickly heap. My poor, fragile body felt as if it had bruises hiding beneath my pj's all over my flushed and clammy flesh. Every touch to the skin felt like stabbing pain. My insides churned with bile eroding on them.
The light in the house was a putrid gray, and gave Home an abandoned persona. Not a soul was in sight, probably all still in their beds fast asleep while I suffered with this sickness. My knees wobbled furiously as I took each labored step and each shaky breath. My lids were so heavy, and my body was seized with exhaustion and weariness. I felt like the rusted and abused Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.
"Mom," I croaked.
My words struggled to force their way out of my mouth.
"Mom?" I tried again.
The door to my parents room swung open, cool air washing over my sticky face. Mom picked me up and carried me to the couch. Gingerly, she placed me back down on its soft cushions along with a chilled glass of ice water. A damp rag still sodden and dripping from the tap was plastered to my freckled forehead.
"Now you just go to sleep baby," cooed Mom sweetly.
I didn't protest. I twisted over onto my side away from the too-bright lamp, wincing when more pins and needles scraped and pricked my skin. Slowly but steadily stars formed behind my lids, and I found myself falling into a dream filled with luminescent shimmering galaxies and explosive stars the size of Jupiter. I was flying, soaring between and drifting away from worlds untouched for eons. The dream reeked of bliss and the longed-for-freedom of pain was vividly apparent. I was in deep, I realized. But I let myself slip away. It was too amazing, too brilliant for my oh-so fragile imagination.
And I lost myself in the adventure.
Pneumonia • Opuss № I