If you asked my mom to tell you about me as a little girl she would sum me up in one word: stubborn. I never really enjoyed help from others. What were they trying to tell me anyway? Were they trying to insinuate that I was in some way… incapable! Shame on the fool who thought that! Can you tie my shoe? NO you can’t tie my shoe! I can tie my own damn shoe thank you very much!
While I was plenty stubborn about receiving help, I was even more stubborn about succumbing to illnesses. Stories are still passed around about the time I got the stomach flu when I was about ten or so. Every thirty minutes I would stomp to the toilet in a fit of rage, fling that seat up, and make that toilet my prisoner. I didn’t want 7-up. I didn’t want SALTINES! And I sure as shit didn’t want you to rub my back! I was going to take care of my ailments all. by. my. SELF!
Then, I turned 25.
This Saturday I woke up with what seemed like a scratchy throat. I swung out of bed, gave my throat one good clear, and moved on with my day. Then, around 4pm, it hit me. I spent the rest of the evening wearing two pairs of pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, and a scarf while covered in two fleece blankets and a down comforter. No fever was going to get me! THANK GOD David was at work. He need not see me in such a state. I didn’t want him to get any ideas about “taking care of me.” Nope, I wanted to be left alone. I shuffled to Walgreens and got some supplies and then stared at my computer screen watching “Rosemary’s Baby” and cursing the pain under my breath.
The next morning I emerged from my cocoon of blankets and saw David’s face when he took his first look at me. Maybe I had been sleep walking and swallowed a few knives… or maybe I needed to go to the doctor.
Upon hearing my diagnosis… STREP THROAT, I came home determined to keep my cool, but even me, the most stubborn girl in the world, couldn’t take it anymore. I either needed my mommy… who was 2,500 miles away… or the next best thing. David made for a pretty decent mom substitute in my time of need. He let me complain and cry and reminded me to take my medicine and agreed with the doctor’s orders to stay home from work for two whole days. He also brought me some delicious Vietnamese Pho… which is no Mrs. Grass soup (what my mom would have made me), but it did the trick.
I have to say, it felt kind of nice to give in and feel just a little bit sorry for myself… just a little.
So that’s the story of how I became a stubborn strepper.
Peace, love, and patchouli – Portland Pollyanna