Those days, when I wake up and it’s difficult to breathe, my throat dry and cheeks scorching, the strength I usually wield so effortlessly dissipates. The countless complex tasks my body and mind performs throughout the day without a second thought suddenly feels undoable, and I can only resort to staying in bed. Becoming sick forces me to put effort into simply existing, whether it be breathing comfortably, staying awake, or standing up to retrieve medicine from the cabinet. When my body breaks down, in a poignant way, I realize just how much vitality I carry throughout my day to day, even when I feel like I haven’t done enough.
In this increasingly fast-paced world, it’s become common to measure one’s strength or value by how much they accomplish. This illusion is broken when illness arises, something every human is vulnerable to. Getting through the discomfort of elevated fevers or a sore throat becomes a substantial victory, even if it means just laying down for hours. When I’m finally able to take a deep breath, walk normally without feeling lightheaded, and regain my appetite, I’m filled with a newfound sense of clarity. Health isn’t just the absence of pain, but is a capacity that is so constant, that we rarely stop to appreciate it.
“Health isn’t just the absence of pain, but is a capacity that is so constant, that we rarely stop to appreciate it.”
Becoming sick encapsulates just how capable one actually is. As I reflect on my daily schedule, interspersed with exercise, a full course load, doing work into late into the night, going to office hours, spending time with friends, working, volunteering, or doing club work, I can’t help but ask, “how do I do all these things?” The answer isn’t that my usual self is exceptionally strong. It’s just that she had access to something I don’t have when I’m sick — a fully functioning body.
Something as mundane as getting out of bed actually takes effort, but my mind has become so numb to it that I don’t acknowledge it as a sign of strength. Walking isn’t effortless, eating isn’t effortless, and concentrating isn’t effortless. All these processes, our body performs thousands of times every day without requiring one’s attention.
Being sick can often feel like condemnation, but it’s also a stark reminder of how strength doesn’t always have to be substantial. It can be carrying you through understanding a lecture, finishing a run, or staying awake to finish an assignment. The strange gift of illness is that it makes visible what our mind usually doesn’t attend to consciously; it’s a curious thing that sometimes our greatest strengths are often never noticed until we are weakened. The strength needed to walk, think, work, or simply move around is never absent, we just don’t stop to think about it. I would never choose the fever, the discomfort, or the weakness that derives from illness. But, for a moment, in the relief when a fever breaks or a headache subsides, I understand that our “ordinary” is far from ordinary.