(First of all, congrats to me on coming up with the weirdest title for this post.  Really out-doing myself in 2013.)

Dear Ribcage,

Let’s talk.  Not too forcefully though, since you’re broken and it’s really affecting our relationship.  After 7 years of being in tip-top health, we got the flu at the beginning of 2013.  I think we both knew it was coming.  The last 6 months took a toll, and I think we were both anticipating that this part of our life together would be topped off with some sort of infectious plague. 

And so it was.  You and I were bosom-buddies for a week — shivering and sweating through a 3-day fever, having body aches so bad our fingers hurt, and commiserating over coughing fits that felt like we must be suffering from Consumption.  We tried everything — meds, tea, long hot showers, even extra-spicy Indian food (by the way, lesson learned: when you tell an Indian restaurant you want it spicy, they don’t mess around).  But the flu held on.

Finally, by the end of the third day, the fever abated and was promptly replaced by a searing headache that even Advil couldn’t tackle.  The cough continued.  The thought that we might have to spend our days shut up in an old-timey hospital ward for TB patients passed through our mind more than once.  But alas, after 6 full days, we seemed to be on the mend.  We tentatively made a trip to IKEA on day 7.  We were rewarded for our efforts by nearly passing out in the section with the dining chairs and tables.  The store was extra-crowded and I’m sure we looked cool, curled up at one of the display tables with our head on our knees, as all the blood drained from our face.

But, we survived.  Sunday was even a bit normal.  The cough and headache remained, but we had energy.  Energy!  Then came Monday.  The alarm went off absurdly early, as usual, at 5:10am.  I rolled over to push myself up, only to be met with a searing pain in my left side.  It was too much — you had given out.  All the trauma our lungs had gone through, and you’d had it — you snapped.  Literally.  I could hardly breathe without pain, much less deal with the cough that still lingered.  A sneeze almost brought me to my knees.

So I coddled you.  No working out, no reaching for things.  (You know how difficult it is not to reach for things when you’re 5’2?)  But it’s been 3 1/2 weeks now, and you’re still there — a pain in my side.  An ache in the morning and a pain that builds throughout the day.  How long are we really going to do this?  I get that you’re mad — that cough was not a joke for either of us.  But enough already.  It’s bad enough to get the flu; dragging things out like this is just uncalled for.  It seems like you’re just mad for the sake of being mad at this point. 

So, consider this letter your notice.  I’ve had it, and it’s time to get your act together.  Like, literally together.  Enough is enough.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Sincerely,

Chelsea