I’ve spent this past week feeling pretty crummy.
I started out with sclerotherapy on a bad vein on my leg.
I got strep throat the next day.
The medicine made me lose my breakfast.
Then my husband brought home a nasty cold, which I promptly caught a day later. I’ve been coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose constantly the past four days.
I was just starting to feel better today, when I started having an allergic reaction (maybe to the amoxicillin I’m taking) and I’ve broken out in very itchy hives.
Added to all of this is the fact that I’m trapped in a very small hotel room with my entire family, trying not to wake them or bother them while I’m feeling miserable.
All of this got me thinking about how good I have it though. I have a hospital down the road. I have antibiotics and Benadryl and cough drops. I have a climate-controlled room and running water.
It must have been awful being sick in the 1700′s and 1800′s. Just miserable.
I can’t imagine how much my ancestors must have suffered.
Consumption. Cholera. Spanish Flu. Pneumonia.
Heck, even a common cold or stomach flu would have been pretty horrible without medicine or a hot shower or lotiony Kleenex.
So, as I lay my head down on my pillow tonight and blow my nose one last time before I go to sleep, I’m going to thank my lucky stars that I was born in a day and age that I can at least be comfortably sick.