Francesco Rosaspina: Healing the Sick (18th century)

"Engage in some extended scrolling and call me the next morning if you're ever experiencing a SickDay."

I must have already apologized at least once for my short-sightedness in naming this series Unscrolling, for that title presupposes something. It strongly suggests that the underlying purpose of these stories must necessarily be to eradicate scrolling, when that was never my entire objective. Yes, I admit that I sought to reduce my scrolling habit, which had, at times, overwhelmed me. I couldn’t always control that urge to access my social media feeds, but that alone couldn’t have motivated me to dedicate an entire quarter to such an endeavor. Scrolling seems only intermittently annoying. It’s not destroying my life. It often contributes important benefits, one of which appeared yesterday when I experienced one of the rare visits of a SickDay disrupting my semi-sacred routine.

Since the damned pandemic, I continue to curtail my circulation out in the general population. I was never much for shopping. Aimlessly strolling down store aisles was never my idea of anything to actually do. I’m in and out with a minimum of browsing. I’m unlikely to stop and chat up some stranger while I’m shopping, either. I attend the very occasional public meeting, but other than those brief forays, I’m rarely in any position to get exposed to whatever's going around. The Muse, who’s continually out in public, could be a conduit, but we don’t usually live in all that close of proximity. Even with all that distance, I’m still likely to show up on sick call some days.

Gone are the days when I would spend a SickDay covered up on the couch watching Perry Mason reruns. I’m most apt to crash in the guest bedroom, curled up with one of the cats. My social media feed stands in for Perry Mason reruns. In times like these, I appreciate the automated video feed. I can lie back, close my eyes, and let the algorithm be my guide. I do have to occasionally kill an unwanted advertisement, but at least I can kill an unwanted advertisement. I never could do that when binging on Perry Mason reruns. I can doze or focus as my illness allows. My day wanders away from me. I’m still in my pajamas at four in the long afternoon.

My social media feed might be the perfect SickDay companion. It occasionally connects me to others as a comment or a like filters in through the day. I feel far away but still connected, and far removed from death’s door. I remember the intense isolation I’d feel when suffering through a SickDay then, when the whole wide world seemed to have abandoned me, or I abandoned it. I was not fit for even my own polite company then, and I recovered in something considerably less than satisfying isolation. Perry Mason was never adequate compensation. Neither were the 7Up chasers my mom would make me drink, thinking they might settle my unsettled tummy. A SickDay provides a context perfectly unsuitable for healing. Confining covers. Monotonous entertainment. At least social media seems familiar.

As isolated as I sometimes feel when scrolling, on my SickDay, I found that scrolling left me feeling better connected. It was almost as if my social media insisted upon my inhabiting my usual haunts rather than an uncomfortable couch. That insistence alone seemed to help me recover from whatever I was experiencing an unexpected bout of. By the end of the afternoon, The Muse was surprised to find me up and prepping supper. I’d grown terminally bored with the continuing updates and felt ready to try being out in the world. We prepped supper together, with her continuing to keep her distance. I grilled the trout outside in the early spring evening, and all seemed fairly right with the world again. Engage in some extended scrolling and call me the next morning if you’re ever experiencing a SickDay.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Unscrolling, #PureSchmaltz