The CrudPosted: January 12, 2014
Bill, Mom and I started 2014 with the crud. Bill was first, sniffling and coughing two days after Christmas. Mom was next, hacking up globs for mucus and snuffling her way through her game shows on New Year’s day. And I came last, foolishly believing right to the end that I’d dodged a bullet – until my throat turned to sandpaper and I joined the chorus of raspy hacking and constant sinus drainage.
After four days of getting up, getting dressed and then falling asleep sitting up on her loveseat, Mom decided to spend a day in bed resting. I was relieved because I figured this was the best thing for her to do. So I brought in her lap tray and loaded it up with her TV guide, Kindle, electronic poker game, cough syrup, box of tissues, and a bottle of water, then got the TV remote and the remote to control the head and foot level of her bed. She was good to go. She switched on ice skating and promptly fell asleep.
Three hours later, she called out to me, so I got up from my own attempt at napping and entered her bedroom.
“What’s up?” I asked. “Did you have a good snooze?”
“I think so, but now I can’t get up.”
“What do you mean you can’t get up? Like can’t get out of bed?”
“Yes, that,” she replied, squirming and struggling to sit up from her fetal position. She had managed to pull back the four layers of bed covers and had her legs almost unburied from beneath their weight. She grabbed the bed cane and tried to pull herself up, only to end up falling backwards onto the pillows.
I helped her come to an upright position with her legs dangling over the side of the bed, then I moved away to allow her room to stand. Before her feet got any closer to the floor, she collapsed backward onto the crumpled sheets.
“Are you dizzy?” I asked as I pulled her back into an upright position.
“No, I’m not dizzy,” she muttered, clearly aggravated. “It’s all this laying around. I think my body likes this bed too much.”