I was really excited last week to sit down and type out the wonders of my return to Frauenchor last Monday night, but I fell sick on Thursday and was taking it easy all weekend long. I missed my second week at the local women’s choir this past Monday, but I can’t tell you how excited I am for my old German neighbor to pick me up this week and help me up the stairs where I’ll sing in a room of women who have a different mother tongue than I do but welcomed me into their club nonetheless.
I’ll catch you all up on the details of my brief illness instead of the excitement of being surrounded by people who can’t speak the same language as you.
Thursday morning I woke up feeling a little less than 100%, but I pushed through knowing I’d have the weekend to recover soon. Despite doing almost nothing all weekend, Monday was the worst day for me of this virus that attempted to knock out students and staff across our campus. By fifth period, I was practically useless, so I sat in the corner coughing while sixteen responsible young adults had an engaged conversation about their textbook reading for over half an hour. I was so impressed. I love my job.
For most of you, getting sick means taking a couple days off to recover and returning to normal life in a matter of a week. Since my atrophied muscle function is still in the use it or lose it stage, this last week of resting meant less physical activity and a subsequent step back in my stamina. I’m particularly disheartened by this because I’ve been at my maximum energy output this year with the extra class.
When I went for a walk earlier this afternoon, I had to sit down and rest at a bench that I’d normally be able to walk past with little problem. While I sat there and contemplated my condition, I realized, yet again, that I wouldn’t trade my life for any other. I love my job, and I love my students. Each day that I woke up “sick” this week is still well enough to take care of myself, and for that I’m grateful. I showed up to work and joked with one of my students that I’ve taken enough sick days for my whole career already; I don’t want to miss another day with my students. Even when my immune system completely kicks this cough, I’ll still wake up with less health than I want. I still crave the ability to plant my feet on the floor and have full control of my ankles, knees, and hips as I lift my weight over my bare feet and put one foot in front of the other without using sticks for balance.
My therapist says there’s a flicker in my ankles. I’ll be honest, I have a hard time believing her because I still can’t see or feel it myself. However, I live by faith, and that’s being certain of what I cannot see and sure of what I hope for.
