This week I had to leave work early (which is almost unheard of) and go home sick. I won’t go into any of the grisly details, but let’s just say that for 12 hours or so I was miserable. I think there’s something to be said for the theory that you can’t enjoy the good without experiencing the bad. Whenever I get sick I am mad at myself for not appreciating being well more. Why didn’t I realize how nice it is to feel unsick?
I’m not sure this is a universal experience, but for me, when I have had digestive problems, it takes a while for me to want to eat again. It’s scary. I look at things others are eating and wonder how they can do it? Who would dare eat salad? Why would anyone put pesto into perfectly good mashed potatoes? He must be absolutely suicidal to think he can eat beans! I like to tread carefully—a banana here, some white bread there, and maybe a chaser of applesauce. I think I’ve given up my beloved Diet Coke forever.
I’m still not quite back to normal. I went out to lunch with a friend today and ordered dry white toast, canned peaches, and cottage cheese. I could see the waiter roll his eyes, but I didn’t care. Tonight I’m going to a wedding reception—I hope they’re serving rice and mashed bananas!