Organisms

The title sounds like it's leading to some kind of pun, (organ jokes, something about orgasms...idk) but alas, it's not. I'm not that creative today.

Getting over a little 3 day stomach flu opens ones eyes. Sharing that flu with a passel of little ones renders my heart (and frankly turns my stomach). Do not read on if you are faint of heart or have no stomach for graphic detail and parental mushiness.

I am a guy, okay, and so I go through a flu like a man. I suffer, I endure, I bear down and trudge through, all with great strength and bravado. Once I was laid out with a flu and students and fellow faculty had to make a house calls to get me back on my feet. I was not going to go to the doctor, of course, and I was not going to ask for help. (Neither was I going to do anything about it all, just lay there and moan.) See, the truth is, according to my wife, men are no good at being sick. They all revert to being helpless infants who depend on the strong bosom of women to nurture them back to health. According to her, I am among the worst at sniveling, whimpering, and generally whining as I lounge around depending on others to help me.

Anyway, this weekend we went to my hometown (a 4hr drive one way) and I had to gather lots of paperwork up to do my mother's taxes (which I hate doing, generally, taxes are of Satan). On the way out, I came down with the crud. On the way back, my wife did. When we returned home, we were greeted with two sickly boys, as well as a sick sister- and mother-in-law. That night, the 4 year old picked up where he had left off the night before, spewing copious volumes of vomit in our beds, etc. etc. etc. He timed his purgings about 40 minutes apart, leaving little margin for sleep. Yesterday, it was the younger boy's turn to blow chunks, and he surely did.

Chronicling such crud has no purpose w/o reflection.

At times, we all feel invincible. We get the idea we can waltz through a barrage of gunfire or walk on hot coals. Children are especially immune to negative thinking (I have found, anyway, if you do not cloud them with pessimism, their default setting is positive). They poo poo sickness as if it were never going to happen to them. Even more impressive, kids can throw up, then take another bite of their sandwich and go play outside.

I have to admit that I've had near perfect health. My mom complains of lots of little aches and pains, but in my family tree, we have been most fortunate. My wife's side of the family is not nearly so lucky. I suppose that this run of good health has made me unusually optimistic at times, particularly ignorant at others. I know, at least, it leaves me in shock and denial whenever I really do fall ill. Just like my kids--"What, me? sick?"

A flu striking us all down, however, is a good wake up call, a reality check. It's a punch in the stomach, for sure, but it's also a good reminder how very fragile life is. We are all just organisms here, pretty much the same superstructure as one-another, from amoeba to Americans. With all of our trappings, from labels and possessions to anthropomorphism and other -isms, we too quickly forget that we are essentially bags of water propped up w/sticks.

The reality of it all is ever-more pronounced when a child is sick. When they are too young to explain what ails them, too immature to really grasp what's happening...it is more painful for me as a parent than for them as retching babies. I always ache to take away their pains. I am always too quick to medicate, anything to make them feel better. Yesterday, as I was holding my boy's head up, as a Popsicle stream of puke shot from him (generally toward a trash can), I was not grossed out. I was empathetic. I was there. I felt responsible and I felt I could do nothing for him. That helpless feeling is the very worst...and I really know nothing of it.

Sometimes my in-laws speak of their son who died of leukemia at the age of 13. Whenever I hear what they endured, I am awestruck. These people-- oh-so-human as the rest of us, with frailties and failings in abundance--take on super-human proportion when I consider what they have suffered and survived. I come to respect and treasure them more and more when I realize what they have lived through, from Viet Nam to losing several children. In our modern age, their hardships are, indeed, almost surreal. Just over a hundred years ago, however, infant mortality and fatal challenges on the prairie were so common place that parents birthed a dozen kids knowing they might end up with half that.

Reality checks of sickness and history are good. They keep us humble. They make us appreciative of what we have, even if all we have is our health.