Be sick
Being sick. Coughs, colds and hoarseness are annoying. However, when I find myself in the waiting area of an ambulance station, hanging my own white coat on the hook and holding my head between my hands, and I know that you can fix it, but that it’s significantly worse than a bladder infection, I continue to hold my head between my hands. My bag is leaning against my calves and I’ve cleared childcare for the next three to five days with my daughter’s father. But then. Then he’s actually planning a trip to Budapest and actually he has his weekend off, and concert tickets for that already, and actually he has this work meeting on Thursday and actually I promised to buy new winter shoes, in pink, sure enough, on Tuesday. At that moment I would have even allowed pink shoes with glittery unicorns on them. But now I continue to hold my head between my hands and think only of my head for now and yet wonder what happens when. Then it occurs to me that I’ve never considered the if and I can imagine how that works legally and that’s perfectly acceptable in my case, but then the if looks different when it comes to occupation, when it comes to age, when it comes to health. What if the if becomes so big that I can no longer decide for myself. When it comes to the last will and testament. Sometime. Who will do it for me then. How far does my family reach. Or is it rather my best friends with whom I am more than half electively related. When I am called up, I first hold only one hand to my head and fish for my bag with the other, until I let myself fall into a bed and pull the blanket up to my chin. Close your eyes. The next three to five days are settled. After that, we need to talk.
