I have sore throat. I stay still
in bed for a while making a list in my head of things I have to sort out as a result
of waking up with a throat that gives you pain upon swallowing.
These are the mornings I wish I
lived in a place with family nearby. I start to feel melancholy rising in me and
want to call my parents. But that item isn’t on the list yet.
Let’s start with the first item.
It feels like the soreness I had when
I had COVID earlier this year. That was the week Denmark lifted all its COVID restrictions.
I was there to celebrate it at home with my COVID just five days after I got my
third COVID shot.
I have to find a test to make
sure. I have none at home. I took all of them to my parents in Turkey during summer
holidays. I feel guilty to go out to buy some test-kits in case I have COVID.
Should I call someone to get some for me? The closest person I can call for
this is still a bit far and is probably sleeping at this hour. I put a mask on
and go out. I decide to try supermarkets instead of pharmacies hoping that would
prevent close interactions with people in case I have COVID. I find self-test
kits at the second supermarket I try.
I come back home and do the test.
It is negative. I feel some relief. Though, I know this isn’t a definitive
answer. Will do another test tomorrow.
Moving to the next list item.
I need to feed myself. I prepare breakfast
and eat watching the latest episode of Rings of Power. It makes me
forget my sore throat for a while. But since I am more melancholic than usual,
I end up crying several times during the episode.
Third item.
I have things to put in order at
work. I know there are different degrees to sore throats. Some you can recover from
in a day, some will need slightly longer time but wouldn’t prevent you from drinking
coffee, and some will not only need longer time but also make your best friend coffee
temporarily your enemy. What I have right now is the last kind, and I know I cannot
and should not make it to the university tomorrow. I email my PhD student and
postdoc for my class so that they take it over. I am glad that at least I have
this luxury now, which I didn’t have up until two years ago when I was without
funding to hire people. I also email the people I had meetings with and cancel
them asking to synchronize over email or Teams chat.
Fourth item.
I still have to finish preparing
the second class-project. I assigned the preparation of the first and third projects
to my two PhD students, but I took over the second one. I am almost done with it
but need to write up its description before the class. I finish it while baking
in parallel, because soon I will be hungry again.
So fifth item done concurrently
with fourth.
Six.
I signed up for an online writing
class for this weekend during summer. It is time for that. I am glad for the
class since it allows me to sit down and relax a bit at least. It is where I
write the first draft of this text during a 10minute writing exercise with a
pen and notebook. My PhD advisor once told me “it is a good thing you have a computer”,
my handwriting is terrible.
I feed myself again while following
the last hour of the class and take a paracetamol for the fever.
Seven.
I have to inform my
partner-in-crime-in-Denmark (I know I need a better nickname for her, working
on it) who I planned to hang out with on Tuesday about the possibility of
canceling our meeting since I don’t want to give her germs.
I also inform my visitor coming next
Saturday from USA. I really hope that I will be well by then. We have been
planning this trip since beginning of COVID. I am looking forward to it.
Eight.
Call parents and listen to your
mom telling you to prepare mouthwash with carbonate and buy vitamins.
Nine.
Call your grandma because it is Sunday
and try to sound not-ill.
I think I am done. I am
hungry again.
I dread being ill. It is really
tiring. It leads to further piled-up work. It makes me feel weak. It amplifies
my melancholy. I end up questioning my life choices and over-analyzing the cost
I pay for my belief in independence, which was the main life goal I had since I
was four (I don’t remember before the age of four). I know I will firmly
believe in my life choices again once the fever goes away and my throat
recovers to a state where I can drink coffee happily again. This is not the
first time I am ill and won’t be the last one, but each one is a strange emotional
rollercoaster.
There used to be a time where being
ill was actually fun. I was a dependent child back then. Being ill meant
skipping school, being taken care of by the adults in my life (parents, cousins
of parents, family friends …) and playing games with them at home, occupying
the big couch in our living room getting unlimited TV time or watching E.T. over
and over on the VHS tape my dad recorded during one the times it was on Turkish
TV. Later in life, I apologized to my parents for subjecting them to certain kids
shows (e.g., Blue's Clues), but I will never apologize for subjecting anyone to
E.T.
Now being ill comes with
complications I have to take care of, and I avoid watching E.T. because I know
it will make me cry too much at this state and that isn’t good for my coffee-repellent
sore throat and creeping fever.
In retrospect, me being ill when
I was a child probably created even worse complications for my parents even
discounting the worry they felt (and still feel) for it. What I remember as fun
memories wasn’t really fun for them. And being ill now isn’t that bad, because
I will get to enjoy a longer breakfast tomorrow (minus the coffee,
unfortunately) and take a long walk during the day while the Danish sun is
still out there with all its intensity. What a luxury that is to have as an independent
adult on a weekday.
