Saturday, November 3, 2007

A Book Is a Book, Except When It's an Escape

If I'm awake, there's a pretty good chance I have my nose in a book.

I've always been a reader, but I read even more frequently since I got sick. It doesn't take a lot of energy to read a book, and if it's engrossing, I can forget, for a few minutes or longer, about all the places I hurt and how tired I am.

Books make me feel better.

I'm fortunate that I live in Multnomah County (Oregon), where the public library has a service to deliver books to the homes of people who are too sick, too old, too whatever, to be able to get to the library themselves. So every other month, a friendly person brings me a crate full of books that I've put on reserve online. I can have up to 40 holds, which isn't quite enough to keep me for two full months, but it's a damn good start.

I worry sometimes that my husband resents that I'm always doing something "fun" when I have my nose in a book, while he spends virtually all of his waking hours doing some sort of work, whether it's the kind he gets paid for or the kind that keeps our household functioning. He doesn't get many breaks, nor many escapes. It's definitely not even close to "fair."

But then, I don't think there's anything "fair" about the way chronic illness affects the family members of the person who is sick.

But give me a good book, and I can forget about all that for a little while.

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