This week I found out why getting a flu shot makes so much sense. Unfortunately, I never got around to getting one and so I've spent the last few days on my back discovering aches and pains I never imagined could emanate from one little body.

It is so odd being sick. I suspect it has something to do with checking out of the world for a while. When you are sick you don't much care about anything but getting better. The meetings you had scheduled, the people you were supposed to see, the work that needed to get done just crumble into insignificance in the face of your own misery.

Being sick provides a helpful perspective and, although I wish I could find an easier way of going about it, I am grateful for the new viewpoint.

Two days have gone by in a blur. A high fever caused forty-eight hours to come and go, without much attention at all. Of course, you don't have to be sick to have that happen. Indeed, too often, too many of us fail to cherish each day, each hour and each minute. We find ourselves ignoring the richness of the life around us as we narrowly limit our focus to just our own lives.

The last few days would indicate that the world goes along just fine without me. But I like being engaged with the world. I like participating in the lives that are all around me. I like getting up each day and heading off to meaningful work and rewarding relationships. It seems to me, even on the edge of this miserable illness, that these are the marks of the fulfilled life. It's not how high I've moved up the corporate ladder or how many toys I've acquired but rather whether I've managed to cherish life or not, all of life.

Post-script to the above: The fever decided to stick around and the night after writing this piece I dreamed of my dying. Actually it may not have been a dream as much as that strange and mysterious time of transition between consciousness and unconsciousness. I seemed able to control the course of it and I stretched it out for a very long time. I remember I was weeping. I was surrounded by those I love and one by one I was able to tell them what they meant to me. Slowly, I spoke of the gifts they had given me, the joy they had shared. When it was over, I laid in bed enjoying my tears and pondered again the things that really mattered.