I co-habited with the former spousal unit for over seven years. And during that time, normal stuff happens. The cold or influenza strikes. And you have the advantage of living with someone who can, at the very least, make you some soup. Check for a pulse.
Oh sure, I know married people who crave the freedom I have. The quiet. The space. But listen here buster… when you are sick and it is just you in the house? Bah! Single takes on a whole new meaning. I filled an extra bowl of dog food this morning (and will keep it out) in case something happens to me.
Yeah, didn’t really think of that too often. Although I told Diane about my fears. What if I die at home, and no one comes to save my dogs? Will they eat me? What if my carrion is the only thing left by the time someone figures out I am gone? Jesus. Yep, these are the things I now confront in my singledom.
This morning I have whatever I have. I would like to get a drive-thru test for Covid but they are all booked up. I will still schedule one for a week from now. But hopefully, by then I will be feeling better. Nonetheless, getting anyone else sick is not an option. So, back into lockdown mode, I go.
Well, at least I have the dog park. And I did get my house extra tidy last night and did the carpets before the plague took root. House is clean. Plenty of groceries. Amazon pantry for anything else I need for a couple of weeks. And I could complain about it like I often do, but, who needs that? Everyone is kind of freaked out right now about the virus.
So, I’ll get funny (ish) instead. After some cold medication-induced delirium deep thoughts this morning, here are my five (5) reasons why being single and sick sucks.
1. No Cuddles
Okay so, on the off chance that a former spouse or boyfriend is reading this, I have to be 100% authentic. When I am feeling crappy, I want NO ONE to touch me. Blech. Some people like to be cuddled and comforted, but I consider myself to be a walking Petrie dish. There is the pragmatism again, right? Both of us getting sick would suck more. Keep your distance.
But I do like sitting on the couch together. Putting my legs up on my partner. That kind of connection, and the warmth of it. It grounds me. Big strong smart independent girl… likes to feel protected sometimes. That’s what that connection means to me. That healthy level of possession of the masculine and feminine. The “I got you babe” reassurance. And subliminal “you aren’t alone”.
I miss that. So much.
2. No Food Preparation
I woke up this morning feeling far worse than the day before. Luckily, I work from home and I will power through without needing to take a sick day. I can write if I am dying. Proved that. Flashback to writing with a PIC line and IVs coming out of me. #Shudder … quit that Skylar. That is in the past. Done.
I don’t have much of an appetite right now. Or very much lately at all. Last night I ordered McDonald’s from DoorDash. I couldn’t cook. I was worn out. But I ate half of what I ordered and then let the dogs nibble on the rest. Somewhere in my cupboard, there are delicious canned soups. Emergency provisions. I will dig them out.
But what I really want is a big, fat juicy steak with mushrooms and mashed potatoes. And a day of sleeping on the couch watching Babylon 5 reruns. Soup it is.
3. Driving to the Doctor When You Feel Like Crap
I’m going to have to go get a Covid-19 test. The problem? They are booked up for a week. Great. The advantage? Many drive-thru testing sites in this area. Cool. I can manage that. If you make me sit in a clinic or doctor’s waiting room right now, I would lose it. Check-in with suspected Covid variant de jour, check out with Ebola? No thanks.
It was not without begrudging and complaints that my former would take me for care if I needed it. Meanwhile, I am the kind of person that shows up in my SUV with blankets, a pillow, or whatever to assist. I know what it is like to be vulnerable because of a health situation. My compassion for sick people got dialed way up.
I don’t even want to drive to the testing location (if I could find one that is). Everything hurts and I am dying. I’m not. Shouldn’t joke. But it would be nice to have family or friends nearby that could drive me if I am feeling dizzy. I don’t. Everyone who cares about me lives in another country. I’m solo here, Joe. Patient drive thyself.
If I have the fancy new Covid+Flu? I’m going to be pissed. Not that it will change the outcome.
4. Loneliness Makes It Feel Worse
Okay aside from the cuddles, I guess I just feel better with someone around. Now, I was used to having someone around. Then I got divorced. Then I had seven whole years of being single and relying only on me. Alone. Then I was married again and got used to having someone around.
So, I miss having someone around. But reflecting on that, my Grandmother never remarried after being widowed at the age of 44 I think. Four years younger than me. She never even dated. One time Nan told me that getting used to my Poppy not being around, was the hardest thing for her. She said, “Once you have had the best, the rest can’t come even close”. She died in her eighties without ever touching (or loving) another man.
That’s noble. I have that nobility in my DNA. I have only been living alone since May 29, 2021. That’s nothing! But it doesn’t feel like anything. It feels cold. And weird, and empty. I try to fill it with things. That space. Cleaning the house. Walking the dogs and yoga. But sometimes when I am sitting in the bubble bath with a glass of wine, and my laptop perched on the toilet seat, I get sad. I have that moment of “Oh F… I am really alone here”.
And then I usually cry briefly. Dry it up. And eat Dove chocolate to self-medicate. I’m an introvert that was forced to become an extrovert to survive. I like alone time. I like quiet time. But mostly I am a pack animal now without a pack. And through the filter of being sick, everything sucks. And compounds, exponentially.
I really hate being lonely. I see how other women make bad choices in this zone. I made a couple. Corrected course. When being alone doesn’t hurt so excruciatingly, I will be ready to date. In the interim, I have other stuff to deal with, including the final administrative step of my divorce.
5. Irrational Fear of Dying and No one Finding Your Body
I know for a fact, as macabre as this sounds, I am not the only singleton to have this fear. Aside from the pleasure of hearing about my train wreck life, I know that my best friend check’s in on me. To make sure I am alive. She is also the executor of my estate.
Not that I have much of an estate left at this point, but my dogs are the beneficiary to my will. To make sure they are cared for. I am sure my mom would grab them. And the money. At least I know they would be okay, with a trust established.
These are the things I think about now. Which dog would start eating me first? Definitely not Dante. He’s faithful. Probably Mia. Maybe Bud, and then the rest would join in. Hey, I am diabetic right? This meat tastes sweet I imagine. And at that point what would I care? I’d be removed from the grid and floating as some energy molecules, watching my dogs eat my body with abject horror. And hoping they start with the toes.
Thursday and Friday left. I’ll probably be working all weekend too on some projects. But from the couch, when I don’t have to log in to our team chat. Everything hurts. Send a man. Kidding. I wish. That would only exacerbate my condition since I have the innate ability to attract psychos in most cases.
Send soup. I like soup.
And movies that remind me of the potential of a great love of equals. Some day.
