Making a Fuss

Pneumonia. Again.

Though my doctor couldn’t tell me why, I came down with a case of it every few years.

But now? In the sunny month of July? It didn’t make any sense.

Besides, fever, chills and a nasty cough was not how I wanted to spend my summer. I sat in the examination room waiting for the results of my Xrays.

I was only five when my first bout with the disease kept me out of school for almost a month. It was the dead of winter, and back then getting sick was sort of fun.

No homework, lots of TV and attention, and when I felt really bad Mom put a washcloth on my forehead and sang “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm.”

To this day, hearing that song always made me feel better. But no one’s around to fuss over me now, I thought. I swung my legs from the examining table, feeling low.

A nurse poked her head in to check on me. “The doctor will be just another minute,” she said. Then she continued down the hallway whistling a familiar tune. “What do I care how much it may storm? I’ve got my love to keep me warm...”

A winter ballad? In the middle of summer? Someone up there was still fussing over me after all.