When I was teenager, the word sick could have meant 3 completely different things:
Sick (1): Something great. Too cool for school. Ultra awesome. Best-thing-since-sliced-bread good.
Eg. “That N*Sync and Richard Marx love-song collaboration is sick.”
(Yep. I said teenagers).
Sick (2): Filthy. So wrong. Depraved. Inappropriate. Get-away-from-me-now-I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that, sick.
Eg. “I love Maths.”
The third definition of sick is funnily enough, the only one I have anything to do with nowadays, being a parent of a kindergarten-attending girl.
Sick (3): Of having your immune system worn out. With cold. Feverish. Unwell. Tired. Sniffly. Coughing, sneezing, achiness usually presents.
This is the sick I was dealing with today.
But I couldn’t help but be thankful for the timing. How is it that often the sickness comes when you have nothing on? For the first time in ages we were home today, and the last 3 Fridays we’ve had appointments appointments appointments. It’s been mad crazy busy, so when we woke up this morning and baby girl was still suffering with a sniffily and snotty nose, feeling very worse for wear and overly tired, I knew it was going to be that kind of day.
That ‘tending-to-her’ day.
I was actually glad I was the one to be there. I didn’t have anywhere to be. I wasn’t cancelling appointments – sure we had to cancel a playdate, but for now that leisure would have to wait. I gave her Panadol, checked her temperature, felt her forehead a billion times… blew her nose a trillion times… bathed her and fed her and cuddled and kissed her every time she asked… and didn’t.
I was grateful I was home with her for this most important of sick days – the first one is always the hardest – and though tomorrow I AM away from her, I sure as hell hope the worst has passed, and the love and support I gave her today will help her on her road to healing.
So the cold, though shit, had good timing. Sick. (Number 1!)