Select Page


Because I’m sick.

And I don’t do sick very well.

I’m a “get up and go” kind of woman.

There’s always –

  • another mountain to climb;

  • a race to run (heaven forbid!);

  • a challenge to tackle;

  • a new project to start;

  • an old one to finish.

But I can’t.

Because I’m sick.

A severe bout of bronchitis has me hugging my antibiotics, probiotics, prednisone, Albuterol inhaler, snake oil, hartshorn (don’t ask) hot tea, blankets, books, dogs and more. And don’t forget sniffing burnt feathers. As a last resort.

Weak as a kitten but not as cute. More like a tired old stray with every single one of the years of good living showing. As an asthmatic, bronchitis really kicks my rear. Nasty stuff.

But I will get better. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not even next week.

But at some point I will.

And my really small world will be big again.

My thoughts go to those whose world will always remain small.

  • Limited by the loss of a limb;

  • Or hearing;

  • Or sight;

  • Or mental challenges;

  • Or a wheelchair.

I sigh. Grateful for my good fortune. I send up a prayer of thanksgiving.

And receive in return a well-deserved smack for my unbelievable arrogance in considering those more challenged than myself to live in small worlds.

The limitation is in the mind, not the body.

Think of the Special Olympics.

Think of The Invictus Games.

I demean myself and those living in different size worlds by being sorry for them.

Yes, they need –

  • My support;

  • My empathy;

  • My encouragement.

No, they do not need –

  • My pity.

Cyber hugs and blessings all.



Photo by Audi Nissen on Unsplash


Get in Contact with Ida