This is Memorial Day Weekend. Our US Flags are flying, honoring those who have provided military service for our country, and remembering those who sacrificed their lives. Many people are taking their first summer vacations. It’s been a rainy, chilly three days in central North Carolina. Mostly a good time for leisurely reading and afternoon naps. For me, it’s another few days of recuperating from pneumonia–three-weeks ago being admitted to the hospital.
Now, I’m so much better—but the cough lingers. I remember the doctor’s words when she said, “it’ll be the last thing to go.” When I try to talk like normal (but not as much a my usual, loquacious Southern self!) I start coughing.
“Slow down, Connie,” I remind myself; it’s going to take a while to get over this.
It feels like I was entering a new phase of life when I first started getting sick mid-April. Run down from too much activity, I was conscious of needing to decrease my commitments, limit my dancing, draw in more. As I became more ill, and then when I entered the hospital, I was involuntarily forced to completely give in to the demands of my body. After three days in the hospital, I was discharged with instructions on how to slowly improve.
Once I was home, I had to have silence. It was as if my brain had suffered a concussion and it needed to rest—-even though I didn’t have a brain injury; I had a bacterial infection of my lungs. Over the last few weeks, I have seldom turned on my television, had short periods on my computer, made brief responses to text and calls. I’ve needed quiet.
This time has created space for clarity. With minimal distractions, without my previous multi-tasking, with a singular focus on getting well, I am slowly emerging. I didn’t plan it this way; how could I? No one can see how life will unfold. We make our plans, but then things happen.
It reminds me of when I was 45 years old, back in 2000. I was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer, followed by 8 months of treatment. While I was sick for a couple of days after each chemo, those periods were short-lived. With my aggressive form of treatment my survival was promising.
With pneumonia, I was more acutely sick and impacted for days–but without the distant threat of cancer returning. Both cancer and pneumonia, made me look closely at my life– how I used my energy, how I needed to slow down.
Now, I think that one day, I’ll look back and see how this pneumonia experience changed my life. I’m not trying to glamorize being sick, cancer, or health challenges of any kind. I’m just looking at life–how we all experience unforeseen obstacles and how they impact our lives.
Soon, we’ll be past the holiday weekend, entering June. It’ll be time for summer vacations, ending of school years, harvesting vegetable gardens, and cutting flowers from our beds. And I hope to be back to normal– but with a change of perspective and reordered priorities.
Best to you, as you transition to summer, or whatever season it is, where you live in this world.
Connie
Connie Rosser Riddle 
wishing you a full recovery!
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Thanks so much, Martha. Folks like you, expressing support and well wishes, have certainly helped.
Connie
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Dear Connie, Your writing remains relatable, always timely, and autobiographical for all who read it. Don’t stop. It would be a disservice to many. Love, Betty
Sent from my iPhone
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Ahhh, Betty. What a sweet, encouraging response. Thank you so much.
I’ve been thinking of you and your family’s celebration of Mary Farrell’s graduation. How special.
Love,
Connie
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So glad to see that you are still improving and hopefully reaching the end of the pneumonia journey. But I understand what you mean about how life events sometimes give us pause to regroup and reflect. A broken knee did that for me years ago at an extraordinarily busy and demanding time in my life. I’m convinced (in hindsight, of course) it was “a God thing” to help me gain better perspective. Thank you for the reminder to slow down, take note, and hear God’s voice – even when it is still and small.
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Hey Glenda,
Thanks so much for your good wishes, your ongoing prayers.
You are exactly right; it’s been a “God thing.” Some of it I see now, some of it–like you after your broken knee, I’ll appreciate later.
We all need to encourage each other to slow down and take care of ourselves. I agree that God’s still and small voice is our guide that’s deep within.
Best to you, Glenda.
Connie
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Great post Connie. It is great that you are getting better, The only thing that seems to be the norm that healing takes a little longer every time you get sick or injured. Keep working on healing and get back to running on all eight cylinders. Love and Blessing to you, John.
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Thanks so much, John.
I love how you say, “The only thing that seems to be the norm that healing takes a little longer every time you get sick or injured.” I’m just really getting that and some of it is accepting that it’s partly due to growing older. Our bodies have performed beautifully and after so many years, they’re just not going to bounce back the same way; that would be abnormal.
Yes, I’m working on healing and seeing this as a special time of learning new things.
Best to you,
Connie
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I am happy that you are resting and taking the time to recover. I had pneumonia when I was 30 and was so sickI thought I would die. It is brutal. Take care!!
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Thanks so much, Charmaine.
Nothing has ever hit me like this! I can’t believe how long it takes to recover. Hearing your memory of pneumonia at 30 y.o., “it was brutal–thought I would die” reinforces that the hit is real–and of course everything you read says “harder for the elderly” Ha! and at 68 y.o., I certainly qualify.
Thanks for your encouragement.
You take care, too.
Connie
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