As I write this article, I am slowly getting over a respiratory infection most likely caused by the Starkville gods of weather and the fact that I have had grossly unhealthy dietary habits for the last week.
I am no stranger to illness. I make up part of the populace that will make all antibiotics useless one day as bacteria mutates to become more resistant.
Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking about the things we do when we get sick and how we spend away these tortuous hours. As for myself, it usually goes something like this: I go to the Longest Student Health Center, get a shot, rack up on meds, go home, skip all classes for one or two days and watch reruns of bygone ’90s sitcoms. And I slowly begin to hate myself for laughing at simplistic sitcom jokes that aren’t even funny. My brain turns into unintelligent mush as I soak in the philosophical ponderings of Tim the Tool Man’s next-door neighbor, Wilson.
This is truly pathetic considering sick people throughout history have done many great things while sneezing and hacking or lying in a hospital bed.
For instance, there is Ignatius of Loyola. Dude was a knight who got hit in the leg by a cannonball back when they still had cannonballs. He spent excruciating months in a hospital, read books about Jesus while lying in bed, found religion, decided to try to become a saint and founded the Society of Jesus. How different this is than the time I had pneumonia and spent four days lying in a hospital bed watching television. I did bring a Bible that time but never got around to reading it.
Another Ignatius-of-Loyola moment involves none other than ’60s and ’70s pop star Cat Stevens, who suffered tuberculosis and a collapsed lung. While spending months in a hospital, he realized his life wasn’t profound enough, read all manner of religious texts and subsequently released a lot of profound and rather profitable tunes. Arguably his best hits came after his tuberculosis.
Then we have the 20th century Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. She was in a car wreck that broke her spinal column, collarbone, ribs and pelvis. An iron rail even pierced her abdomen. To kill the time while recovering, she launched a now-famous painting career with self-portraits depicting her agony. Why didn’t I ever think of that?
Another example of how not to coward away from illness involves the manliest man of all time – rifle-toting Charlton Heston. He had the flu while acting in “The Planet of the Apes,” but his producers let him continue because the infection made his voice even more appropriate for his character. I feel so puny and weak. Honestly, I broke down in tears when I had the flu.
The examples are many and varied, but the message is clear: I’m a lazy bum. That can probably be said for a great many in our society, at least when it comes to illness an injury.
According to scholarly texts I read in a television criticism class over the summer, sitcoms often reinforce the status quo by using repetitive characters. From now on when I’m sick, I think I’ll read a few books and write something revolutionary about culture or politics. Perhaps I will have a feverish night vision that actually makes sense and from which I’ll begin an entirely new religion. I’ll begin to follow my ill idols of historical importance.
In the meantime, I must leave you there. I’m getting a little tired now.
Matt Watson is a senior majoring in communication and Spanish. He can be contacted at [email protected].