Saturday, March 17, 2007

On Being Feverish

"You give me Fever! .... FEVER!"

That's the Peggy Lee soundtrack playing in my head right now. Only there's no slanky, slinky, smoky smooth voice and body accompanying it. No. Quite the contrary: Melissa all feverish and forlorn, curled up in her comforter, shaking shaking, shaking as she tries to type and entertain herself through this sudden onset of illness.

Where the heck did this fever come from?
Why the sinus headache?
What's up with the red-raw-scratchy throat, and the blasted cough?

Steph, my sister/ mom/doctor diagnosed me yesterday over the phone:
"You have a respiratory infection. It's actually the flu. You'll need a lot of fluids and rest. "
God bless her.

I was coming home from a conference for Gay and Lesbian Catholics and was overwhelmed by emotion from the rousing day's workshops lead by Rock-star Theologian, James Allison. "Overcoming Scandal" and "Imagining the Good" were the two retitled sessions for the day. Former Dominican Priest James Allison had me all weepy and inspired contemplating the human condition encountering first love, shame of identity, and the ensuing hell. His afternoon session centering on Home, Heart, Husband, and Ministry were really what resonated, sending me into fiercely flowing tears.
(Forgive me: this so needs editing!)
You know: James and I both really want the same things!?
While I'm all comfortable in this rainbow crowd of GLBT Catholics, I have to admit the irony of my own heterosexual woes. Being consoled by a Fransiscan brother (minus his frock) over the resonance of these themes was just a tad too much.

Perhaps that is when the cold/ flu really kicked in?

I departed shortly after the second plenary session, tissue in hand, reflecting on my desire to write more about love and shame and living through hell, overcoming scandal and imagining the good...

"Just get home, Mel, and you can write some of this down."
Well, home I got, with my bag of Walgreen goodies; Robitussin, Progresso chicken noodle soup, Emergen-C drink mix. Kleenex.

And now: here I am. Some serious sleep later, almost a bottle of Robitussin down, all shaky and sad still, alone in my bed.

I was supposed to go out last night. It was Sharifa's Birthday. I was meeting up with some lovely crew. And today: It's St. Patrick's Day! My neighbors Melinda and Cort are having a soire, and Harold, the writer/ biker from two doors down just stopped by to see if I was coming...

And here I am: in bed, contemplating James Allison, Love, Peggy Lee's music, and wondering what I can say, "Thank you, God" for. There has to be a thank you, God, right?

Thank you for the GLBT Catholic conference - that it even exists!
Thank you for James Allison's insights on love, shame, hell, and how he responds to the world and life's woes -- as a grown up.
Thank you for this cold and fever, and my own invented Peggy Lee soundtrack.
Thank you for keeping me in on St. Patrick's Day?
Thank you for having Harold the neighbor visit, even coming in to read over some of his recent work?
Thank you for chicken noodles soup.
Thank you for the ability to blog.

Thank you for all the people out there in the world who are also ill, and in need of love, comfort. May they know they are not alone.
More on Allison, maybe, soon. After I recover and am clear-headed.


No comments: