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Knock. Knock. Knock.


“Uhh, hey you. Are you doing okay in there?” Manfriend asked cautiously through the door.

I peeled an eye open.

Huh, I guess I fell asleep.

Slowly, I sat up and opened the door. Manfriend peeked through. At the sight of my makeshift towel pillow on the bathroom floor, he shook his head.

“Oh dear,” he sighed. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

So went my last few days off.

I wish I could tell you my latest round of projectile fun had been booze-inspired, but alas, t’was a simple case of food poisoning that did this gal in. For days, I rid my body of damn near everything, fitfully sleeping between each purge.

Not exactly how I saw my weekend going.

And while I feel better now, this latest bout of illness made me realize how hard it can be to be sick abroad. Even after four years overseas, I haven’t been able to recreate the creature comforts that made me feel better back in the States.

Back home …

If I tossed back a few too many, the next day I’d gorge on mac ‘n’ cheese straight out of the pot, and gulp down a couple dozen bottles of ice water.

If I had a cold, I’d cozy up in layers and a couch-made cocoon. I would then proceed to binge-watch TV shows in between naps.

If a sore throat struck, I would guzzle down delightfully soothing medicinal drinks, all while snuggled up in a pillow throne in bed.

Simply put, I knew how to take care of myself when I was stateside.

Here in Beijing, though, I haven’t quite figured out how to comfort myself to a cure.

Trust me, I’ve been plenty sick from all of the above since moving to Beijing. Yet I still have yet to define a new go-to in the healing process. The beds here aren’t exactly plush. I’ve tried all sorts of Chinese medicines, all to no avail. Ample oil and spices make the foods far too riotous for the food-poisoned crowd. Without my DVDs (I’m so old), binge watching relies on a tenuous WIFI and VPN connection that’s frequently left me stranded.

My point: When you’re sick, it’s easy to miss those simple things that made you feel better just by being there. I mean, I got to the point where, laying on the bathroom floor, I even missed my old, fluffy floor mat. It always had my back after a few too many beers.

I suppose, though, that I’m coming close to redefining those sick-day comforts. Hell, with Beijing’s ever-efficient delivery system, I didn’t even have to leave home to get piles of saltines dropped off at my door.

One step closer to creating an even-more-comfortable sick bed.

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