It's been pouring rain all morning, putting a crimp in my plans to make the three hour drive to Delaware today. I just checked the short term forecast, though, and current thinking is that the heaviest rain will end by 10 o'clock this morning, so maybe things will work out after all. I've got stuff piled next to the back door waiting to be packed in the car, and the cats won't know what hit them when I whisk them up from their peaceful naps. With any luck they'll stay in that state.

I feel a cold coming on, and if it is, this will be the first one I've had in ages. Back when I was obligated to be somewhere whether I wanted to be or not (you know--work and school) I used to welcome the occasional cold. When things got rough, I'd say, only half-jokingly, "what I need is a good cold to lay me low for a while." I could hole up in my cozy house, a little dopey from the antihistamines, eat soup and watch TV. When I was little and had a fever or sore throat, my mother would give me half an aspirin dissolved in a spoon with water and sugar--that pleasant sour-sweet flavor is a memory I can conjure up any time. Being a little bit sick meant being taken care of, even if only by yourself. Once, I got more than I bargained for, when a pleasant little cold turned into a full-blown case of flu, and that taught me to be careful of what I wished for. From that experience I know the difference between being a little off and being Sick. A cold makes you a bit tired. With the flu, you think perhaps you could die and not regret it. Every breath feels like razor blades entering your lungs and every movement is painful. I never want to feel that way again and am religious now about getting a flu shot every year.

I had German measles--the dreaded rubella--when I was in the first grade, and that's as sick as I've ever been. At that age, of course, you have no idea how bad off you are; I just knew I couldn't go to school. I ended up being out for two weeks and having some trouble catching up when I got back. My mother wanted me in her sight all the time, so she made me a bed on the living room couch and that's where I stayed. I had to wear dark glasses, something having to do with my fever. (I've never really figured that one out.) And Dr. Davis, my pediatrician, came to the house--even then, a house call by your doctor was a rarity. One day, Mary Martin as Peter Pan came on TV and I just had to get up from the couch and dance along with the music. That was a very rare thing for me to do as a kid and it still is--I must have really been getting antsy, a welcome clue to my mother, I guess, that I was getting better.

When you're little, if you're lucky you can take your health for granted. It's only when you're older, when you've seen diseases of one kind or another strike loved ones or yourself, that you learn the importance of maintaining your body. We all face the same inevitable outcome, of course, but we do have some control, as well. I mean to make my time as pleasant as possible. That means pain-free comfort, and not having to be conscious of every heartbeat and every breath. I just knocked my wooden desk. With a little work and a little luck--not to mention drugs--I can still make believe that the horizon is endless.