From the Heart
And so it was on Thursday morning that I woke up, and as I attempted to rise and shine I realized I needed to pull the covers back over my shoulders and fall ever so gently back into bed. I was sick.
It appeared that I had been unable to outrun the virus that had plagued my coworkers. I felt as if a rather plump elephant was sitting on my chest. Monkeys had invaded my ears. My head felt like a bucket of cement. I had the miserable crud. Yes, my own diagnosis.
I kept trying to convince myself that I could go to work. I wasn’t throwing up. I wasn’t coughing. I wasn’t carrying around a box of tissues. I just felt miserable. And, I felt guilty.
I know the “stay home and not spread your germs” warning. I had broken that rule many times. So why is it so hard to call in sick? My boss knows that if I say I am sick … I am sick.
I feel guilty going to work when I am sick. I feel guilty staying at home when I am sick. Choose my guilt.
I chose to stay home.
I have this wonderful caretaker who even warms rice bags for my cold feet. He asked if he could go and get me anything. I told him that I wanted to go to the drug store and pick out my own cure while sauntering down the cold/flu aisle.
I saw what was recommended by my friends on Facebook. (Don’t laugh, it’s my version of the Med Check.) I picked up a box of Sambucol Black Elderberry that was to be taken the first sign of symptoms. I popped a pill while sitting in the parking lot of the drug store.
Next stop was Starbucks where I ordered what my daughter had recommended … The Medicine Ball. I Googled the ingredients. Jade Citrus Mint Green Tea, Peach Tranquility Herbal Tea, hot water, steamed lemonade and just a hint of honey. Sounded like a cure to me.
At home, I had DayQuil which I gulped down all the while saying, “Bleck, bleck, bleck.”
I snuggled into the sofa with my sherpa blanket and a new book, Bittersweet Season. It’s the story of a woman who took care of her elderly mother. I highly recommend it to anyone facing or smack dab in the trenches of caretaking.
I took a break to binge watch Netflix. Don’t ask me what happened as I soon nodded off to sleep for a short winter’s nap.
It’s Saturday and Chuck is still warming up rice bags for my cold feet, the elephants and monkeys are headed back to the zoo, and while I am feeling some better, I still feel guilty.
My mother reminds me that at “my age” I need to remember that I don’t recover as quickly and could get worse and die. Thanks, Mom!
I am just hoping to be back to work on Monday knowing others are grateful that I did not bring along my germs to work with me.
I am sure I will find something else to feel guilty about. I think there is no cure for it as I have suffered with the guilts my entire life. It is just the way I am wired. If only they had a Medicine Ball for it.