Derailed, Temporarily

I woke up to the stomach flu.

And to the visceral reality that I was down for the day.

In case you haven't succumbed to the shit-tay bug in sometime, let me remind you that it wreaks a suckage you conveniently forgot about since the last time you fell victim.

You lay in your bed, dehydrated, looking at the wall, lamenting the million things you could be doing, bemoaning why even reading or watching movies hurts.  Realizing this isn't a freebie.  Today, you're paying a price.

Cold.

And then, hot.

You close your eyes and remind yourself that this is the last day of Christmas break and that your kids have THINGS that need to get done before tomorrow morning at 7am.

You stand in gratitude for a husband who takes the day off of work to keep the home fires burning and the buttered toast at bay.

And then it hits you, ah yes, it's officially January 2nd and there is no way that you will be running anywhere on the second day of the new year, except to the toilet.

Is this a sign?  Are you fucked?  Time to throw in the towel?

One big God fucking damn it will have to suffice and then, you roll over to weather the storm.

And, in some respects, I'm glad this came now.  It reminds me that life is real.  Much of it is out of our control.  But gentle or sometimes explosive, violent intestinal episodes remind us that in order to carry out our promises, we have to be willing to adapt, to stand firm, and to trust that this is a temporary derailment, at best.

And so, to the negative temperatures I say, pack up, we're done with you.  To the yuck gut bomb that lives inside me, I cry out, "vacate."  And to my heart and mind that are resolute to take good care of me this new year, I say, "fear not."  This too shall pass.