" The Sick Room "

Preface : The following is an excerpt that I found as I was skimming through a wonderful book called " Common Sense In The Household ".
It was authored by Marion Harland, pen name of Mary Virginia Hawes
Terhune. It first appeared in 1871.

While reading this excerpt it in someways rang true as to how I have been
feeling as of late. It also gave me a good laugh. I would like to share it with you.

" The Sick Room "

The sick-chamber should be the most quite and cheerful in the house-a sacred isle past which the waves of domestic toil and solicitude glide silently. This is not an easy rule to obey. Whoever the invalid may be, wheather the mother , father, or the sweet youngling of the flock, the foundations of the household seem thrown out of course while the sickness lasts. You may have good servants and kind friends to aid you , but the hitch in the machinery is not to be smoothed out by thier efforts. The irregularity does not annoy you : you do not notice it if the attack be severe or dangerous . All other thoughts are swallowed up in the all absorbing , ever present alarm . You count nothing an inconvenience that can bring present relief , or possible healing to the beloved one ; disdain for yourself rest or ease while the shadow hangs above the pillow crushed by the helpless head . But when it passes , when the first transport of thankfulness has subsided into an abiding sense of safety , the mind swings back to the accustomed pivot , and your eyes seem to be suddenly unbound . You find , with dismay , that the children have run wild , and the comfort of the whole family been neglected during your confinement to the post of most urgent duty ; with displeasure , that the servants have , as you consider , taken advantage of your situation to omit this task , and to slur over that ; - in fine , that nothing has been done well , and so many things left altogether undone , that you are
" worried out of your senses " - a phrase that too often signifies , out of your temper .




And it is just at this juncture-when you are called to fifty points of attention and labor at once , and are on the verge of despair at the conglomeration worse conglomerated arising before you ; fidgetting to pick up dropped stitches in the web you were wont to keep so even-that the invalid becomes most exacting . " Unreasonable," you name it to yourself , even though it may be John himself who calls upon you every third minute for some little office of loving kindness ; who wants to be amused and fed and petted , and made generally comfortable as if he were a six-months old baby ; who never remembers that you must be wearied out with watching and anxiety , and that everything below stairs is going to destruction for the want of a balance wheel . The better he loves you the more apt he is to fancy that nobody but you can do anything for him ; the more certain to crave something which no one else knows how to prepare . And when you have strained muscle and patience a little further to get it ready , and with prudent foresight made enough to last for several meals , it is more than probable that this fickle taste will suggest something entirely different for " next time." " Just for a change , you know dear . One gets so tired of eating the same thing so often!"





Epilogue : I have always been somewhat fascinated with Victorian times.
However after reading this excerpt I can say with the utmost confidence that I am so grateful that it is not 1871.

I am grateful for myself and for my husband. Poor dear would be dead.

Katie is feeling much better . I am hoping that this was just a little virus and it has nearly ran its course.

Jake is feeling better although his leg still appears to be infected and he is still having pain in his arm. We will be seeing our family physician tomorrow and should have some more information then .

Thank you to all for your kindness . God bless .