Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays' take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘feeling sick

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‘Twas the day before the US Thanksgiving, and I’m already home from work. Why? SNOW DAY! Hello, to the first big snow event of this season. All day long yesterday the specter of this looming winter storm hung heavy in the air at the day-job. The dramatic potential was all over the news as the weather service warning covered a multitude of states across the heartland of our country for the day before the national holiday.

Staff started making decisions based on the likelihood of the coming weather disruption, which meant moving some actions up a day and delaying others until next week. Compounding anxiety over the weather was a moderate epidemic of ill health making its way through the workplace.

More than one person decided in advance to stay home today, myself included.

In the hour-long commute home yesterday afternoon, I vacillated between an impression from the heavy gray sky of near-immediacy for the flakes to start falling, compared to another view where the clouds were thin and it seemed almost sunny. The differing views noticeably altered my mindset.

It reminded me of a discussion earlier in the day over the impact our minds have over framing how were are feeling when “under the weather” with illness. Personally, I am inclined to whimper at home with Cyndie when I get sick, lamenting over how critically ill I must certainly be, despite my belief that mentally willing myself to feel better holds more power to improve conditions for me, as well as those around me.

All that needs to happen is a change in how I view things. Imagine if citizens would allow themselves an open mind to view societal issues from an alternate perspective to see how they fit into an ethical and loving framework. What would it be like to be able to engage in a constructively curious dialog with someone who holds an opposing view about important issues?

Conversely, think about how we constrict ourselves when confining our news and information feeds to a narrow array of sources backed by specific corporate interests. No single view holds exclusive rights to absolute correctness.

The weather, our health, the economy, our democracy… all of these look different depending on how we view them.

We would all do better if more people made an honest effort to view these issues from a loving perspective that is not based on fear.

Today, I am going to view all the snow that is falling with an attitude of awe for the transforming beauty it brings to our otherwise barren forest landscapes. I’ll also be viewing the snow from the seat of our Grizzly ATV while pushing it off and away from our driveway.

It’s beginning to look a lot like winter at Wintervale…

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Written by johnwhays

November 27, 2019 at 7:00 am

Feeling Yucky

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After a pretty good run of clean health, I’m re-learning what it is like to feel absolutely miserable from a simple cold. I am definitely out of practice, which is probably a good thing, overall. A reflection of a long span of time without feeling sick.

For now I am reduced to a whimpering patient, burrowing beneath blankets and soaking up the loving care that Cyndie showers over me. Thank goodness for her hot lemon and honey tea.

I also have the extra special sympathizer in Pequenita to guide me through these dark days.

She’s not quite as ferocious as I was making her out to be yesterday.

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Written by johnwhays

January 4, 2019 at 7:00 am

Survival Naps

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Yesterday, Cyndie sent me a text from the doctor’s office. She asked me to pick up some prescriptions for her, and wrote that she had declined their option to go to the hospital.

Hello!

That got my attention.

They gave her lots of tender loving care while she was awaiting test results, and I headed home early from work. She was a mess when they saw her, with a fever that climbed a couple of degrees while she was there. After a nebulizer treatment to open her lungs, Cyndie headed home for the best medicine of all: a nap on her own bed under the watchful eye of Pequenita.

Too bad we left all that warm, moist air in the Dominican Republic. Someone is currently not allowed to be outside breathing our very frozen oxygen molecules.

That means I am on full-time animal care for a while. On Wednesday and Thursday, I tended to the horses and Delilah in the morning before starting my commute. Under the crunch of time and darkness, the chickens were pretty much neglected, left to fend for themselves in the coop.

When I checked on them yesterday afternoon, our winter-hardy birds were doing just fine. The electric waterer was working slick, only freezing around the edge. I served them a portion of cracked corn and meal worms, cleaned the poop board, and they looked perfectly happy with the situation.

The young chestnuts were doing their own version of surviving the cold air. They positioned themselves strategically out of the breeze and broadside to the sun for an afternoon nap.

Luckily, this cold snap is due to give way to more reasonable temperatures this weekend, so the animals and I will get a little break from the extreme elements.

I may even crank up the Grizzly to clean up the inch of snow that has gradually accumulated since I last plowed. It hardly seems worth it, but doing so makes it a little easier to walk around, and who doesn’t need a little more easy when you are trudging through the dead of winter?

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Written by johnwhays

January 5, 2018 at 7:00 am

Noticing Moments

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Illness has slowly been making its way through some of the staff at work, and I’ve heard tell of it visiting some of my family. Somewhere between the two, after the weekend of visitors, I brushed too close to a source. My body responded with all the classic symptoms.

It’s an almost indistinguishable cross between a cold and allergies. After an impressive run of relatively good health, experiencing an affliction such as this helps me to realize how many things there are about living every day that I take for granted.

Certainly, I now have a new level of respect for how pleasant it is to have a clear and healthy sinus cavity on a daily basis.

As I stepped toward our spiral staircase from up in the loft, I noticed how impressive it is to be able to stride unhesitatingly over the edge of the floor and float down the massive pine steps. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal usually, but yesterday I found myself hyper-aware of what a marvel it is to have that ability.

With tired, stinging eyes, my drive home from work yesterday was an extra challenge of not driving distracted. Well, not only distracted, but actually asleep. When I arrived safely home, my mind was drawn to one specific goal. I wanted to lay down on our bed, pull the cover over my body, and close my eyes for a nap.

My nose has suffered a days’ worth of abuse from tissues wiping the constant flow and my eyes stung. I didn’t want to be touched. I just wanted to completely give in to the urge to sleep. Pequenita couldn’t resist. I think she spends her whole day dreaming of the moment when I will come home and lie down on that bed with her.

She purred and kneaded her way up my body, arriving at my head. My arms were snuggled deep below the covers and my irritated eyes were frozen shut in resistance to the sting. So she head butted me right in the nose. It was the absolute worst intrusion to the comfort I was so desperately seeking.

I didn’t react. I just wanted to forget the insult and enter dreamland. So she did it again, harder.

I noticed how cute it can seem sometimes when she does that head-butting action. How dear it is that she seeks my attention with such fervor. And I noticed how different it comes across when I feel miserable and my nose is particularly sensitive.

Why is it that this kind of illness triggers an obscure mental focus? I noticed my slippers of many years. I don’t know why I find it so hard to part with my house slippers. Even though these long ago developed a crack in the sole that lets wetness in –noticeable when making brief excursions through puddles in the garage or on the deck or driveway (obviously, venturing out of the house)– they still function perfectly well in every other regard.

I haven’t given a thought to replacing them. How could I? These are the ones. There are no others to be had.

Until I finally do. Then the new pair become “the ones,” for the next decade and a half.

Just some things I noticed.

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Written by johnwhays

April 20, 2017 at 6:00 am