Body and Brain
I’ve been sick with the flu most of the week. I spent a few of the days nearly delirious with a pressure headache so acute my eyes felt like GMO grapes, bloated and sweating. I couldn’t stop crying. Not because I was sad, though I did feel despondent, but because my body was pretty sure it was the right thing to do.
My body knows a lot about the right thing to do when I’m sick. It starts up the fever machine, driving my body temperature up by five degrees in just a few minutes. The fever machine eventually kicks on the sweats because I’ll need to cool down—the point is to kill the virus not me. The sweats make me cold, too cold, so I get my blankets and socks and scarf and cuddle up. Then my body tells my brain to shut down my consciousness and let me sleep, make me sleep. And my brain says “okay,” and I rest, finally letting body do body things without the incessant input of awake me. It’s basically like working on a holiday—nobody there to message you dumb shit so you can finally get some work done.
I really like my body. It’s so cool how much it knows and how much it cares. It’s really creative, too. Brain, too. They’re always finding shortcuts and better ways of doing things. They see all the crap “free will” version of me does to hurt them, making up for all those deficits the best they can.
But aside from being reminded of how impressive body and brain are, it was truly a crummy most of the week.
Fevers, body aches, pass outs.
Arguing with blankets and socks, begging for their forgiveness.
Staring down showers and glasses of water, giving in and immediately feeling the sweet relief of hydration and cleanliness.
Building castles out of snotty tissues, sweeping them away into food delivery bags.
Catching glimpses of little hands and fingers tucking under the closed door of my quarantine.
Catching snippets of “Where’s mama,” “Mama’s sick,” crying—this time out of sadness.
Working. (I vehemently do not recommend this.)
One positive thing: at least I didn’t pay as much attention to the news this week.
I mean, of course, I did pay some attention. Elon Musk is still doing space cowboy illegal shit with his frat. Enough courts sued the government to pause the federal resignation fiasco but a ton of people already said they’re down to be gone. The hits keep coming from U.S.A.I.D.’s defunding—critically ill people without care, important medical trials stopped mid-way, children left to starve, a lot-a lot more. No transgender people in women’s sports. Something about Donald wants to make Gaza a resort? I dunno a bunch of shit happened. Even at the periphery of the news, it’s a lot. But I was sick, and I’d read a headline or a few sentences, and my eyes would well up and sprinkle a little deluge all over my phone screen, body clearly signaling it was time to go back to cuddling the cats.
When you’re not paying attention to the news every second—not that you should be or shouldn’t be, do what you like—but when you’re not paying constant attention to the dismantling of your country’s democracy, it does become simpler to live in the moment. See: arguments with socks.
A lot like the exploration of today’s fruit, today’s life is something that can be done very basically but is often overcomplicated, if not by necessity by habit. You don’t need to do much to live a good life when so much of it is based on intention. If you’ll let them, body and brain can handle a lot for you.
Today, I am feeling the best I’ve felt since Monday, and the first thing I did when I woke up without the oppressive pressure of my body’s war on influenza was scuttle into my baby girl’s room and pull her out of her crib. I scooped her up into a cozy hug and plopped her onto the big bed next to me, swaddled in her softest blanket. We held hands, made sweet nonsense sounds, and bumped good morning noses. The imperative needs of today’s life.
