Being sick has its advantages. Like you get caught up on what the insides of your eyelids are doing.
And you get to contemplate the little things. Like: Should I turn over? I think I’d like to lie on my left side. But turning over requires the effort of a whole lot of muscles, none of whom seem inclined to want to participate. Organizing them seems beyond my current abilities since anarchy seems to have control at the moment. Maybe staying on my right side will do.
Being sick allows you to gain perspective. Wars? Meh. I’m trying to wrangle enough muscles to field a team qualified to roll over. The World’s problems are puny compared to the Herculean effort I’m considering.
On the other hand, the World doesn’t seem to care much when you’re sick. It just keeps on turning.
To be fair, the world doesn’t care much when you’re healthy. But we are much more pathetic and needy when we’re sick. “Pfft,” says the World, “People get sick all the time. You’re not even Interesting Sick, you’re Boring Sick. Let me know if you do something interesting like sprout antlers or develop stripes. Until then, I’ve got my hands full.”
On the other, other hand (there are a lot of hands involved. Is that Interesting?), when you (finally) feel better and return to the land of the living (don’t tell me there aren’t zombies—I’ve seen my face in the mirror when I’m sick and that’s proof positive that zombies exist) you feel extra good. You celebrate the tiniest burst of energy.
On the other, other, other hand, if you aren’t sick, you should appreciate how good you feel today.
I’m feeling much, much better, thank you for asking.