A Day in My Life: Pneumonia, Pallets, and a Little Philanthropy
My day started a little earlier than usual. Technically, I got out of bed at 8 a.m., but my pneumonia cough had other plans. I had been awake since 5 a.m., coughing, tossing, turning, and negotiating with myself about whether getting out of bed was absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, life doesn’t stop just because your lungs have decided to stage a protest.
We had guests arriving, which meant I had no choice but to drag myself out of bed, get dressed, and pretend I was a fully functioning member of society.
By exactly 9 a.m., we were out the door, with a cup of coffee firmly in my hand. Coffee, at this point, was less of a beverage and more of a survival strategy.
Our first stop was Lantana, where we visited the Education Foundation. The foundation had been kind enough to house several pallets of holiday toys for Roots and Wings, and we needed to finalize the pallet count.
Nothing says the holiday season is approaching quite like counting pallets of toys while trying not to cough up a lung.
From there, we headed to the office. Nothing particularly unusual happened. Just another day of work, responsibilities, and trying to convince my body that we were perfectly fine.
By around 2 p.m., however, I surrendered.
I took a nap.
Not because I was being lazy, but because we had the YMCA Triangle Society event that evening, and I wanted to arrive with a genuine smile rather than the facial expression of a woman contemplating everyone else’s life choices.
Let me explain something.
A sleep-deprived, menopausal woman recovering from pneumonia should not be released into a social event without adequate rest. It’s not just a personal preference. It’s practically a public safety recommendation.
Fortunately, my afternoon nap did its job.
That evening, we attended the YMCA Triangle Society event. There were plenty of familiar faces, warm greetings, and brief conversations. I said hello to several people and exchanged the usual pleasantries.
And, of course, there were hors d’oeuvres.
I happily sampled several of the little appetizers being passed around. There’s something about food served on tiny trays that makes it impossible to refuse. Besides, when someone walks toward you carrying a tray of food, it would be terribly rude not to help lighten the load.
At some point, a gentleman sat right next to me at our table. We enjoyed the program, listened to the speeches, and took in the evening.
As soon as the final speech concluded, however, I knew my social battery had reached its limit.
Ted stayed behind to catch up with a few of the other gentlemen, while I graciously declined the after-party festivities.
My lungs, my hormones, and my bed had apparently reached a unanimous decision.
I stepped outside to wait for Ted and our car, grateful for a little fresh air and the prospect of going home.
Despite the long day and my less-than-cooperative health, it was a lovely evening.
There is something genuinely uplifting about being surrounded by people who have made helping others part of their life’s mission. People who understand that giving back isn’t simply about writing a check or attending a fundraising event. It’s about showing up, building relationships, and making a difference in someone else’s life.
And tonight was a reminder of that.
From counting pallets of holiday toys in the morning to attending an evening dedicated to philanthropy, the day had a common thread: helping others.
Not a bad way to spend a Wednesday.
Even with pneumonia.
Even with menopause.
And even when all I really wanted was my bed.
