This weekend I became reacquainted with my bed. I mean really reacquainted. We are such close friends now I am finding myself having trouble tearing apart from it to start the work week. Last weeks dealing with docs and pain and drugs and exhaustion had me driven firmly to bed by 7:30 Friday night. Satchmo was sweetly tucked away with Mary and the girls for the weekend, as they had been begging for a reunion since they last had him during my trip. So really, any motivation to get dressed to walk him to the end of the block to do his business was not there. I had a good supply of Smartfood Popcorn, peanut M&Ms (in Easter shades of pastel), and a new container of Sabra roasted garlic hummus. These foods important to coat my stomach for the barrage of antibiotics, steroids, decongestants, muscle relaxers, painkillers, ice packs and other methodologies for dealing with this nearly debilitating ear pain. Since I had no dog to let out, my only trips downstairs during my long hibernation was to get another cold icepack and cold water to wash the drugs and junk food down. I did manage to throw on some sweats Saturday afternoon to make it to the chiropractor where my ears were tugged and neck stretched to try to pop those tubes open. As stealthily as I crept in there, I crept back home and to bed where I iced and waited for those tubes to clear. About an hour after the appointment the right ear miraculously opened up, only to be slowly filled back up within minutes.
I then continued my drug and junk food fed hibernation for another twenty six hours until I had to shower and dress to pick up Judy and Anne to see the last performance of "Rubble Women" in the David Smith Warehouse. This fitting play about women in Berlin, who, after the war were conscripted to rebuild the City from the tons of rubble left from the bombs was an excellent diversion from bed. Then I retreated back to my bed, and with sadness realized that we would soon be parted because I have to leave it for work in the morning.
It's been an odd time in bed. The combination of steroids that keep me awake, and muscle relaxers that keep me limp have put me in a retrospective, mysterious mood. I have not given a shat about the piling up laundry and the Christmas decorations that STILL are not stored away. I have had no dog in my care to give me guilt about not getting him out and exercised. I did not look at one single memo or email from work that I told myself on Friday that I would. I had thought about going to church Sunday morning, but in good timing, I looked out my window to see big snowflakes coming down and realized that I was not inspired enough to get up and deal with that. Besides, there was something about having to shower and dress and be among people that just didn't fit. I needed my retreat. Now it is Monday morning and I am seriously considering the career of an agoraphobic. I am not sure I am ready to go back in the world: to answer the phones; answer the e-mails; order a coffee; figure out what to wear; jump in the shower. It all seems so overwhelming. There is still lots of work to be done here in my bed. In fact I just checked my work calendar...can I get away with just one more day in bed? It's all so tempting. The clock has now ticked to 7:30. Obviously I am going to be late. I should be setting a good example for those who work for me. But I am really in love with this bed thing. I am lying here, willing my body to get up, but the body does not respond. If I take one more day in bed then will it make breaking the spell just that much harder the next day? Even though I am dealing with an infirmity it is so much more relaxing than dealing with the non-stop stressful demands that assault me from the minute I enter my office until well after I leave at night. I think that's what I am just not ready to take on at the moment. Or for the next moment. Or the one after that. It's looking like a late start or none at all. I'll keep you posted.