The Book Nerd’s Guide to Sick Days

Welcome to the Book Nerd’s Guide to Life! Every other week, we convene in this safe place to discuss the unique challenges of life for people whose noses are always wedged in books. For past guides, click here.
I have a small confession to make as we embark on this week’s journey into the mind of introverts and escapists. Reader, I ran out of tissues three hours ago. The glories of a sick day, they never cease. Fortunately, I have the dearest of companions, my beloved books, to soothe my ills.
It’s mystifying how nonreaders cope when they’re sick. All the shows they binge watch are based on books anyway. Do they know this? Do they understand who really has their back? But these questions don’t really matter—all that matters are the books. They don’t fail you, not like your traitorous immune system. Instead, they have many qualities that buoy you in your time of need.
Sick bed scenes
The beginning of a sick day is almost—almost—kind of nice. You start arranging your stuff, settling in for a long day of hacking and whimpering. You surround yourself with pillows and heating pads and snacks, like an octogenarian Cleopatra. You queue up Jane Eyre on Netflix. Finally, you shore yourself up with those most beloved possessions, your books. As the start of a sick day is maybe the only time you enjoy it, you take this opportunity to luxuriate in your invalid state. You choose novels and short stories with illness, like “The Adventure of the Dying Detective” or one of those other period novels where the heroine and her sisters faint a lot because of brisk walks, twisted ankles, stress from grand balls, or overall plot convenience.
Rollicking adventures
A few hours spent marinating in your nest, however, and you start to look less for commiseration and more for unfettered escapism (we’ve all read, seen, and re-watched The Princess Bride here). You want action and suspense, mystery and romance, a little treasure, maybe. Good thing most of the stuff in the classics canon is about all of those things. There is a book for literally any kind of daring escapade you could want, like wild westerns on Mars, haunted houses, cult brainwashing, and  praying mantis sex monsters. Your infirmary becomes a window to endless possibilities. You can almost forget the hacking cough and the ache in your joints and the constant dinging of emails on your phone. Almost.
Built-in invalid support
Even with those grand, soaring narratives, a day (or two…or three) in bed, drained of energy, is enough to bring down even the most cheerful of patients, the most inquisitive of reading minds. Even then, when your eyelids sag and you tire of reading the print on a mass market paperback, books are there for you. A stack of them can prop up your bowl, as you’re just barely able to bring the piping hot spoonful of chicken noodle soup to your lips. Your voluminous to-read stack can barricade your door, to ward off any unwelcome visitors. If you live in a loft and have constructed an elaborate pulley system to retrieve extra tissues and cold medicine, hardback books serve as a convenient counterweight.
Speaking of, it is likely time for my next dose, and it will take all of my strength to move Infinite Jest.