I hate being sick. It wasn’t like that when I was a kid. There was real comfort in being sick, in the quiet of my bedroom, in the care of my mother, the sheets and blankets tight over my legs, the TV table over the bed, the tiny black and white television within reach. 
I was obsessive with the game shows in the morning – Gambit, High Rollers, Match Game, The Joker’s Wild! 
I stared blankly at the talk shows in the afternoon – Merv Griffin, Mike Douglas, Dinah Shore. 
I ate rusks and honey, drank ginger ale, and read Watership Down cover to cover. 
And then I got the blankets pulled back tight. 
my bad side
a writer's blog
You don’t mention The Price is Right. That was THE morning show for me on a sick day.
You don’t mention a bucket. The vomit bucket by the bed is a memory for both Gill and me as is the feeling of sleeping on a towel-covered pillow (barf protection). That ring any bells for you?
Ah yes, the towel on the pillow. It had a certain texture. Price is Right was always there, yes, but it was definitely Joker’s Wild for me.