sick

caution: graphic portrayals of mundane diseases. not for the weak.

today i am sick. many of my insides seem to be trying to get outside and my outsides hurt. i am a baby when i get sick and i am pretty sure i learned this from my dad who has never put eyedrops in his own eyes and cannot function if his throat hurts. today my throat does not hurt although my voice would suggest that it does. my head hurts. and my stomach. and all my skin. plus my knees and all the other joints i use. when i get sick, my body responds the way a small child's does. it gets a rash. no kidding. it curls around my neck and down my back and chest to my stomach. it is very dramatic.

when i have to stay home i get bored and angry pretty quickly. i turns out i've drawn my own terrible suffering quite a few times, starting with a rash experience many years ago. i have often wondered what goes through the minds of those guys who yell "hey, baby" at women. do those interactions ever pan out? does the guy ever get a woman who screams back, "i've been waiting for a total stranger to pretend to be more familiar with me than i'm comfortable with! take me away with you!" but on this particular day i was sick- red, snotty nose, puffy, bloodshot eyes, hideous rash. who hits on a diseased woman?


a short time later there was the pepto accident. there are lots of ways pepto- bismol will keep your insides inside and your outsides feeling happy, too, but it does not prevent vomiting. in fact, if you take it for that, all you get is terrifyingly pink vomit. if you have a cat you should note that vomiting sounds are fascinating to them. they are very creepy animals.


it is interesting to note that in these two images, drawn several years apart, i am dressed exactly the same. this is especially unusual because i have not owned a purple dress in my entire adult life. although my shoes really do look like that. normally, the dress curlicues would be pretty. when i'm sick, i guess they're supposed to reflect my terrible suffering so everyone will know and be very, very sad.




the nature of my disease artwork has developed over time just as i have. these bits of scribble chronicle my limited variety of hairstyles and fashionable dress. i got new glasses a few years ago and that's how i can tell recent misery from more distant suffering. constant throughout is my ridiculously angry response to being sick and the absolute refusal of my lungs to even try to get along with me. they are jerks. they were jerks when i was born and have been a thorn in my side since. if there's a respiratory infection out there, they rush to get it. they always want to have the newest thing. it doesn't help that i spend all day with ninth graders whose parents have not taught them things like throwing away tissues once they are used, coughing or sneezing into something other than a teacher's face and washing hands whenever possible.

some people are angry drunks. i am an angry sick person. i'm sure my anger is compounded by the fact that most over the counter cold, flu and allergy medications send me into a world generally inhabited by people in restraints. allergy medications double my heart rate and make me weep hysterically. cold and flu medications make me dizzy and disoriented. i get nauseous and paranoid. i shake. my motor skills deteriorate to those of a toddler. i cannot think, type or communicate. and i weep hysterically. my parents must have known this when i was small because my dad gave me whiskey and honey when i had a cough. i didn't buy it at first, but with a doctor's blessing, it is the only thing i use to treat snot and lung related illnesses. we have bourbon in this house- a little smoother in my opionion. mix in a spoonful of honey and it will calm whatever tornado is swirling around in your lungs. if you're feeling elegant and have a gracious caregiver, you might even request a toddy. my own variation is bourbon and honey in hot tea with lemon. if you're feeling especially achy, add a pinch of cayenne pepper. i'm serious. i am told i have inherited my taste for alternative medicines from my great-grandpa, who had a toddy most evenings when his lungs threw in the towel after years of work in mines. my great-grandma made these drinks under duress and under "strict doctor's orders". how many other things have survived four generations without the fda, ama or someone else debunking them?