Let me die in peace. Well, I usually appreciate my spouse bringing me a drink to keep nearby and maybe a bit of food, but then leave me the hell alone. I can fluff my own fucking pillow. Unless I’m physically disabled, I can get my own damn self to the bathroom.
Leave me alone, unless you’re feline. Even then it depends on the feline (the ones who want to use me for a superhighway can go right the hell away, thanks. The ones that like to cuddle are comforting).
As for humans–if you’re not the spouse, just stay away, period. You don’t want to see me any more than I want to see you. If you’re the spouse, check in on me once every hour or two and preferably be within calling distance, but otherwise just go on about your business and pretend that the miserable wretch in the bedroom isn’t even there.
(I rarely get sick, and even more rarely get sick enough that this applies. Everything above is double if it’s a barfy stomach bug, but I (knock on wood) haven’t had one of those since the mid-90s and I’m hoping to keep up the streak…well…for the rest of my life would be nice.)
Let me rephrase: I did get sick, once. But it because I went to someone’s house and they had undercooked their dinner and, well, they were not clean people. I was better in a day, though.
I drank the goddamn water! I ate those pani puri - which are full of the water. I drank boiled water/water bottles at meals to be safe but I ate everything in sight and I didn’t have any problem.
I was a teenager, and healthy as a horse. I did catch malaria because I hadn’t started my anti-malarial pills soon enough, but I was perfectly fine for two months in India (it’s got a long gestation period) and didn’t get sick until I came back to the States.
Generally speaking I am fine with being left alone. But I live with my father and it would be nice if he at least checked in maybe once a day to see if I need anything. Instead he completely leaves me alone and doesn’t even come near my room; it’s like I don’t exist when I’m sick.