Reframing convalescing

Embracing the space to feel and heal

This past Thursday I found myself in convalescing care mode for both of my kids. Because I was rounding the final corner of my radical month of rest, I had the space to lean into doing the typical things—offering warm beverages, food, medicine, encouragement to dispose of used tissues and take hot showers—without juggling meetings, and I had the opportunity to just be around. I sat with Violet while she watched TV, chatted with the kids from the kitchen while I prepared food, and did regular treatment check-ins with Violet.

Laurel bounced back on Friday but Violet needed another day home from school to recover. I hit the grocery store as soon as it opened so I had plenty of time to get perishables tucked away before heading to Walgreens for my second shingles vaccine. After getting the shot and restocking our tissue supply, I got home and resumed care for Violet, and also got my typical Christine Koh putter on. Feeling pangs around Laurel’s impending return to college, I made her favorite superhero muffins and a fresh batch of granola. I tidied up the refrigerator and food pantry, rotating new groceries behind the old. For dinner I roasted vegetables and made salmon cakes, one of the most gratifying dishes to make because everyone in my house loves them. Anyone who has struggled to feed kids something other than the White Diet (mac n’ cheese, grilled cheese, etc.) will understand my delight watching my kids eat salmon cakes thinking, “Protein! Fish oil! Omegas! Also, celery! Yay!”

After dinner I started to feel achy and exhausted. I passed out on the couch at about 7:30pm. I eventually migrated up to bed, only to wake up at 3am, thirsty, achy, and with pain shooting through my left ear (the same side of the vaccine). I tried to fall back asleep but was uncomfortable and fidgety so I went downstairs to take ibuprofen, push fluids, and sleep on the couch. 

Saturday I had just enough energy to make a batch of chicken soup midday and continue convalescing care check ins with Violet, but otherwise I spent the day flopped on the couch.

And you know what? 

It was pretty freaking great to lean into my own convalescing.

I slept a ton; 12 hours Friday into Saturday and also a nap on Saturday. I usually struggle to nap so this was a big deal.

I drank a ton of water. Boring as it may sound, water is my beverage of choice so to be rolling slow enough where I could just drink and pee on repeat and just accept it instead of be annoyed by it was great.

I read an entire novel (Alice Hoffman’s Here on Earth). Though my body was too tired to move around, my brain was very receptive to reading and it was so wonderful to have a compelling book on hand.

I cuddled my dog a lot. James got a haircut last week and when he is shorn short or left a little longer and blown out, he feels like a velvety Squishmallow. I love this moment Violet captured; I was under a blanket reading and James flopped against me to alternate napping with playing a game he invented—balancing a gross, smelly toy on his snout before tossing it in the air and catching it. This blue item is a bunny that my kids won out of a claw machine. 😂

I accepted support. On Saturday, as Violet’s energy came back, she tucked a blanket around me and made me a cup of tea and encouraged me to keep resting.

I watched a lot of TV—old Great British Baking episodes with the family, Grey’s Anatomy with Laurel, and the free first episode of Season 3 of The Morning Show. (I got 6 months of free Apple TV around the time I got Covid in late 2022, during which time I watched Seasons 1 and 2 of Ted Lasso and The Morning Show. I would like to watch Season 3 of both shows and am being my usual insufferable curmudgeonly self about spending $9.99 for a month of access since we already spend money on other streaming services.)

There are clinical reports that the second shingles dose can result in stronger side effects. And indeed, what I experienced this round was very different from my experience with the first dose—which seemed to be nothing at all.

But I also have a loose theory that with this second dose—at the tail end of a radical month of rest—my body had the space and openness to feel, experience, and convalesce. I received my first shingles dose November 10, in tandem with my Covid booster, which some friends advised against but I was like, EFFICIENCY MODE. I was in the middle of a time-sensitive, intense project and also had just returned from a trip to the desert that was planned well before booking said intense project so I didn’t feel that I had the space to rest after my double vaccination. I did what I have always tended to do when I’m unwell—keep pushing forward, keep getting shit done, keep doing what others might think is impossible (cue story about my 58-hour natural labor with Violet).

And while I was struck by the new awareness I had about embracing the space to heal, it opened my eyes to something else—how I notice and give to others. On Saturday night I was starting to feel better. I stopped in to give Violet a final goodnight squeeze and told her that I was grateful that I had the space to be present with her when she was sick and initiate a regular treatment regimen during the days that was totally, miraculously working—that she is so independent and capable that sometimes I forget to step in when she might need support because I assume she is on it. I told her I would work to keep my eyes open (but not hover!) in the future, and also asked that she work on asking me for support when needed, since she also tends towards not wanting to ask. 

She agreed. 

We sealed our promises with a nose bump. I thanked her again for supporting me while I was down.

I am grateful that the final days of my radical month of rest offered me an opportunity to reframe convalescence from a nuisance to an opportunity to tune in, notice, feel. (I do, however, acknowledge that convalescing over a couple of days is very different from recovery from, or management of, serious injury, debilitation, or illness.) I am someone who isn’t unwell often and despite the physical discomforts, from here on in, I want to fully feel and experience instead of tamping down and pressing on.

I made a nose bump promise, after all.