Okay, so the mild flu I mentioned in my last post was actually just the early stages of an unpleasant week of ravenous appetite inducing illness. Now, I might more accurately say I’m recovering. The fever seems to be gone – although I thought that a couple days ago, and it returned – and I can breathe easier. I hope so. I want to put this week behind me.
To make matters worse, the Canucks added to my suffering by playing some of their worst hockey just when they should be playing their best. Two days in a row they sat and watched the other team play hockey in the final two periods. How are they going to make the playoffs like that, let alone win their division? It occurred to me after the second game that they appeared to be playing the way I felt. Could they have been sick, too? Had the flu infected them and worn them out? It sure seemed like it.
Apparently, I looked so bad that one of my on-line students took pity on me and suggested that we cancel the lesson so I could get some rest. Pity is not something that sits well with me. It’s even worse when the source of the pity is myself, but that’s what illness does to you. You want it to end. You want to return to your normal, healthy, focused self, able to deal and cope. So, you start to feel sorry for yourself. “Poor me” syndrome creeps in. “Why me?” thinking seeps in. Before you know it, you catch yourself whining. If it was someone else, you’d be annoyed by them.
I hate self-pity. I don’t know how to deal with it. Me? Helpless? I, who have endured so much? I, who have overcome? I, who takes a perverse kind of pride in the fact that he’s been fired from more jobs than many people have had? How can I be this foul smelling, mouth breathing, wheezing, aching, limp mass of snot?
You might deduce from the previous paragraph that, even in good health, all is not perfect. True, but at least you can try. That’s what we do. We get up and continue the struggle. Self-pity takes that away from you. It takes the fight out of you. It makes you give up.
What do you do then?