Sick Day

As a wife of an intensive care doctor and a mother, I've learned to perfect the art of not acting sick when I am. I need to be bleeding out of an orifice or not breathing to be considered "ill" by my husband. Anything less = Suck it up, Buttercup. You'd think he was a Marine. As a mom, I never had a day off when I was sick. Ever. I know there are some nice husbands who skip work when their wife is vomiting or whatever. Not mine. He goes to work when he is sick himself. The only accept reason for missing work in his line of business is: Death, Your Own. You'd think doctors would be more sympathetic to themselves and their colleagues when they are sick. They are not. They are completely hypocritical.

So, I've perfected the art of pretending not to be sick. I should get an Academy Award. Or maybe an Emmy. I've driven carpools. I've gone grocery shopping for myself. My secret: drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. 

-- Allergy pills (Zyrtec, Sudafed, etc.) and cold medicine
-- Allergy eye drops
-- Allergy nose spray

-- Ibuprofen

-- Pepto Bismol

-- Vitamins: D, C, B, Folic Acid, whatever else is in the cabinet

-- Cough drops

-- Tea: black, green, and herbals like Wellberry made with elderberries to prevent the flu.

-- Hot lemon and honey
-- Kombucha

-- Coffee

-- PLUS: Vacuuming to get rid of allergens.

My second secret is make-up, dressing up and smiling. Sick people don't smile; ergo, if I smile, people won't think I'm sick. I've got this mastered. I've been on death's doorstep, did my drugs-make-up-smile shtick, gone to run meetings, and come back home and dropped dead again and no one knew I had that horrible pig flu that was going around a few years ago.

Why the martyr act? Eh. I don't know. I know my blog is supposed to be about introspection and whatnot, but even I can't make sense of my irrationality here. I suppose it has to do with my old job -- stay-at-home and volunteer--not having clear boundaries around being sick. And my husband doesn't think people are sick if their heart is beating.

Monday, I was feeling sluggish. I tried biking twenty miles, but couldn't. I am good enough shape to ride twenty miles, but I was too tired to pull it off. Tuesday morning, I woke up with a sore throat. I went to work anyway. I figured between dry night air and stuffy nose, my throat might have been a little achy as a result. I figured getting up and moving would make me feel better, plus I did my little regimen above. 

Tuesday morning, my co-worker called in sick with a sore throat, and then I felt like a heel for showing up possibly germy. So I smiled and told myself I am fine. It is probably just allergies and I am not contagious. I was outside all weekend and this is what the plant debris looks like in my neighborhood. Mother Nature gave this mouse statue a pollen blanket.

At work, I was fine until after lunch. I became very, very sleepy and my throat hurt like a bitch. I went to the company over-the-counter medicine cabinet (where I am a frequent flier) and took one of everything. I still felt like I was going to fall asleep. I told my manager I not feeling well and went home. I slept for three hours.

This morning I woke up and still felt a little meh. I took a handful of vitamins and allergy pills. I went to the coffee shop and got a split shot mocha, and I still felt meh. I figured I was really sick if I still felt bad after coffee.

Why am I dissecting this? Because now I am back at work after being a mom for so long, I no longer know what it means to be sick. I don't when I should stay home because work and home used to be the same thing.

When I came home Tuesday night, my daughter asked me, "If you are sick, why are you running around doing the dishes?" Excellent question: Why am I running around, doing the dishes? Answer: because no one else will do them and... I suppose the dishes could wait, but I'd have to do them anyway, so sick or not... It is all messed up.

The standards for decorum and professionalism are higher at work than at home. Today, I had the attention span of a gnat. And I was grouchy. And tired. I ordered a Beacon Hill sandwich from Bagel Oasis and I had to drive to the other side of Ravenna to get it, which is like five minutes away by car. I was too tired to drive. Who on earth is ever to tired to drive? Me, I guess. I was a cranky driver, too. Why is this pedestrian trying to cross the street? They are in my way, I whined to myself. Why is this car trying to park in a spot I want? My thoughts had the same hideous virus or allergy attack I had.

I laid in bed for and hour and a half, not asleep, but not awake either. I just laid there and did nothing. The phone rang and I didn't get it. 

At one point during the day, I checked my work email. There was a note from a leader from one of the lines of business congratulating a group for a successful service launch. This group of twenty people did this work in the middle of the night, like 2:41 a.m. 

Then, it all became clear. Those people who normally work regular business hours who had to pull an all-nighter didn't need me grogging around, possibly contagious. That is why people stay home from work when they are sick. 

Also, being sick sucks and people who love you should take care of you when you are sick. But when you are a mom, the people who love you can't take care of themselves, yet someone needs to take care of mom.

Tell that to the good doctor.