Z-pak wishes and self-reliant dreams

17 Nov

It was almost a year ago to the day that I, in a total panic, was convinced that a sore throat and stiff neck meant either (a) I had meningitis; (b) my lungs were going to fill with liquid and I would drown in my sleep; (c) I needed a kidney transplant; or (d) I was going to die despite the fact that my beneficiary paperwork wasn’t in order.  Turned out I had a cold.  In case it isn’t obvious, I was a bit anxious about being on my own back then…

Fast-forward to earlier this week when, after six weeks of feeling the symptoms of something, I finally dragged myself to the doctor.  This time around, it’s walking pneumonia and despite being slightly more severe than last year’s common cold, I took the z-pak the doc offered and relished in the fact that in New York, I can have just about anything I want delivered to my front door in less than an hour.  Including soup, vitamin water and fresh squeezed lemonade from the diner on 34th Street:

There is something subtly satisfying in those simple moments and self-reliant actions that make me realize just how far I come.


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