Now is the winter of our discontent....

I am the Xanthippe of patients. I admit it. When sick, I turn into a grumpy, whiney, ill tempered bitch. It started on Friday. By yesterday morning I had a full fledged head cold with all the inherently delightful symptoms - nose running like a tap, achy limbs, cough, rapid fire sneezing. Pissed off and put out, I spent the better part of yesterday hibernating, moving my blankets and Kleenex box back and forth from couch to bed, dozing, drinking tea and feeling sorry for myself. Groaning this morning at the thought of leaving my warm bed to walk Murphy in the cold, I had myself worked up into quite the funk by the time I had parka and boots on. Let’s make this quick, I thought.

Tugging Murph along as he tried to burrow gleefully into the snow banks, I grunted the odd hello to a fellow walker en route. Despite the clear blue sky and picturesque snow-covered trees lining our street, irritated by the snot dripping from my nose I turned back early to head home. Cutting through the back of our building, I let Murphy off the leash to romp some in the back field before we went it. Quiet and bright, this is one of my favourite places to be early in the morning. Last night’s snowfall having covered most of the recent tracks, we had a clean slate here, just us two. Murph happily lying in the middle of the field chewing on a stick, I noticed the shimmer coming off the snow around him, like diamond sandpaper. Sparkles everywhere. It was a perfect moment. Then I sneezed. Then coughed. Then unsuccessfully tried to sniffle up the snot before it ran any further. And, just like that, the diamonds disappeared.

Back home, pj’s back on and waiting for the kettle to boil, I looked down at Murphy. He didn’t care that I cut his walk short. He happily laid there on the kitchen floor gnawing his rawhide, content. He was happy in the snow banks, he was happy with his stick, he is happy here on the kitchen floor. It occurred to me then how right that is.

I hate whiney people. I really do. Whinging, pissing, moaning, morose, joy vampires. I loathe them. I’d like to think that most of the time, I am not like that. But in truth, I could come up with quite a list of silly things I’ve whined about recently. Just off the top of my head, I know I have bitched that:
· I don’t have enough to do at work
· My winter skin can’t get enough moisturizer
· I don’t see my friends enough
· Its too hot in my apartment
· I am too busy at work
· I can’t afford a vacation
· Its cold outside
· I didn’t like the movie I saw last week
· My writing is shite
· I am not drinking enough water
· The bus was late
· I have no time for myself
· I can’t decide between visiting Spain and Italy this summer
· I am peeing too much from drinking all this water
· The bus was early
· The neighbours are loud
· I’m not writing enough
· I’m whining too much
I’ll stop there. It’s enough to make a girl sick!

Now, political and social commentary I love. Essayists enthrall me. A lively respectful debate, and I’m your girl. As a news junkie, there are no shortage of stories around if all I really wanted was a good bitch session. Yet for each tale of greed or corruption, a turn of the page changes bad to good. Yesterday I read an article about the healing power of the mind. A man, Mr. Wright, given a drug he thought to be a cure for his cancer riddled body, experienced miraculous shrinkage in his tumors almost overnight. Noting in a medical journal that the drug he had taken was considered flawed, his condition began to worsen. Given a placebo, believing it a strengthened and improved strain of the previous drug, Mr. Wright rebounded again with startling rapidity. In this article, the mind of Mr. Wright was in itself the miracle.

While I'm no Ms. Wright (sorry I couldn't resist), I recognize that I have more control over my congestion induced distemper than I do most other things in my life. And so, headache notwithstanding, I’ll rally for now and decide to limit the winter of my discontent to a healthier 36 hour timeslot. Diamonds, that's your cue!