Reasoned.

Oh, how I envy the reasonable. The reasonable are able, as their name suggests, to see reason. They know that just because they are emitting coughs of the sort which, when heard in a movie, suggest that the character coughing will be dead before the credits roll DOES NOT mean that they, themselves, are in danger of departing for a less corporeal plane. They know that even though they have been sick for a long while—a whole week, now—it is unlikely that they will go on being sick forever and ever and evermore.

The reasonable do not believe that antibiotics are Out to Get Them. Should they be prescribed amoxicillin for a sinus infection, their third in a year after nearly three decades of pristine and healthy sinuses, they are not inspired to concoct elaborate conspiracy theories, nor are they heard to remark tearfully about their health Obviously Going Rapidly Downhill, and Probably It Won’t Be Long Now.

Yea, though it was a full week ago, the reasonable have no trouble remembering “what it feels like to be well.”

The reasonable see no reason why two months of immunological pratfalls shouldn’t be coincidence, and are not disposed to sudden wee-hour convictions that their children’s current illness will one day be looked back upon as a warning sign they tragically ignored.

The reasonable do not ask their significant others to lay a hand upon their foreheads every quarter of an hour to confirm that they are still, indeed, warmish.

The reasonable do not find that spending all this time in bed makes one really crave madeleines, nor would they rationalize a sudden spike in cake consumption by remarking upon the body’s ability to communicate its dietary needs, for the reasonable would know better than to entertain the specious premise that whipped cream has antiseptic properties on a cellular level.

The reasonable would spend more time catching up on correspondence and less wondering whether, if they WERE dying, some foundation might work on their behalf to entice members of various World Cup teams (a proportional international contingent) to visit their deathbeds in order to massage them with therapeutic oils while wearing only the flags of their respective homelands—miniature flags, the sort you wave at parades. The reasonable would not abruptly end a blog entry because of a coughing fit.