I’m single. I rarely sulk in my singleness. I am free to do what I want and when. The remote is always in its place, except when my dad comes over. As an introvert, I truly cherish my alone time. I’m in charge of my finances. (Read: I like control.)
But on days like this when I have a nasty virus with a 103-degree fever, chills, sore throat and achiness, it’d be nice not to have to call my parents who live 25 minutes away to warn them they might get a middle-of-the-night phone call.
It’d be nice to have someone cook when I just don’t want to – or don’t have the energy. (For my married friends, I know you cannot always depend on your spouse to be there. Just allow a single girl to rant for a moment.)
Why don’t I just ask for help? Well, it’s “just” a virus. People function independently with a virus, right? Veg on the couch and watch Netflix.
But I really doubt most of my able-bodied friends understand the amount of energy it takes to do “simple” things like transferring into bed or making a meal even on a good day. I’ve not laid in bed today because it just seems like too much work.
Yes, I could try to find and pay a personal care attendant, but that involves money and the risk of getting someone else sick.
My willingness to tear down that wall of independence has yet to crumble unless it’s a dire situation. I don’t want to be a burden.
So, maybe I’m writing this as a declaration to ask for help, even in non-emergency situations. But I’ve yet to pick up the phone. After all, my temp has dropped to 102 degrees.