Growing up, I used to hate being sick. I know, that’s quite normal. I also remember Mum and Dad never seemed to be sick (or at least be as upset by it) as I was. Well, whilst growing up I had one experience that taught me being sick wasn’t so bad after all.
In 1995 I was fortunate to go trekking in Nepal (courtesy of some hard work and help from the Boys Clubs). One evening, up a remote hillside in Nepal the Sherpa’s made us soup for dinner. I remember seeing the oily surface reflecting in the half light of dusk. I remember forcing it down because although I didn’t feel to good, I decided I needed the energy having been walking for a few days.
Within a couple of hours I was sick. I then began thinking, “oh well, I’m being sick. Not a lot I can do about i,t just let it happen then get some sleep”.
That trip to Nepal was the first time I realised that being sick isn’t always so bad, just something to put up with for a while until you’re better. I think part of it was resigning myself to the fact that no-one else could help. It was apparent to me then that the nearest hospital was a long way away (a 2 day walk followed by a 1 day drive), so if being sick was all I had to worry about, then I really had nothing worry about.