The flu, or whatever.

February 11, Brownsville.

Yesterday was non-stop, last minute rehearsals from eight in the morning til midnight.
I missed it all.
I spent the day in bed, unable to move, feeling as run over by a truck, getting up, wobbly, to take my medicine, landing into bed again. It wasn't all that unpleasant, like a dead-weight body but without any sharp pain for a change. The sweet old geezer from England ("I'm here for the weather") who attended me at the clinic took one look at me and declared that I was "very sick," most likely the dreaded flu which then morphed into pneumonia for being left unchecked. I was running a fever; funny enough since it's the first thing I check in the kids, I would have never thought of it in myself.
Whatever the diagnosis I haven't felt that sick in a long time, even though I was able to get up this morning and feed the kids. I wish I could lay in bed forever with somebody bringing me hot tea and putting their hand on my forehead, the way mothers do everywhere.