Coming Home

fortmacappreciationMy boyfriend is at some little airstrip waiting with about 200 other people to catch a plane to Edmonton. Late last night after I was asleep, they got word the job was shut down and it would be a couple of weeks before it started again. They could have stayed, but they weren’t being paid. They had to find their own way out of camp and to the little airstrip. The flight to Edmonton is free. Once he gets there he will have to see about getting a flight out to home. Hopefully he won’t have to wait long.

He is tired and cranky and hungry because they couldn’t get much to eat at the camp yesterday on account of having so many people there. He couldn’t get any snacks. All the vending machines were empty. They had to close the little snack kitchen, in order to ration food. But he has such compassion for the people of Fort McMurray, who are devastated by this fire, that he isn’t complaining. He is thankful that he has a home and his family is safe in New Brunswick. He says it’s like a war zone out there. And he told me he heard Fort Mac burned to the ground last night, the hospital and airport and other important buildings gone into the ashes. I don’t know if this is true. I haven’t got a television and I haven’t really been reading much news onlineĀ because unfortunately I’m still sick.

I wish I could just say to hell with all this coughing, sneezing, snot, and sickness. That I could just pick myself up and carry on as if I felt well. But the older I get, the less I can seem to be able to do that. I can only fake it so far, and if I don’t make it by then, I collapse and give in. Back in my 20’s and 30’s I would have just sucked it up. Popped as many non-drowsy meds as I could handle, drank some whiskey and worked 12 or 16 hours a day like nothing was wrong. Once upon a time I would drag my sorry ass out of bed, jump on transit and travel for 90 minutes to work, work as much as 18 hours then go home, sleep a couple of hours, get up and do it all over again, whether I felt sick or not. It didn’t seem to matter. But those days are far behind me now.

Now I struggle just to get vertical. Just to drag my sorry ass a few feet to the desk in my home office while still in my jammies. I think I could still pull it together and give a big push for some cause (like last weekend’s wedding) but now that I’m older I’m more inclined to say screw that! I don’t feel well and I’m just going to focus on making myself feel better. It’s like I feel I’ve earned this right now. When I was young I had something to prove, I guess. I must have proven it well, because it has been well over a week now and I still feel unwell. I’m still saying screw this! I will lie on the couch all day and blow my nose if that’s what I feel like doing.

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