Day four of feeling like crap. Sleep is hard to come by as my nose has this annoying need to be blown repeatedly and with such force that I fear I may pop a blood vessel or some shit. My ears are plugged. My eyes are watery and tired. I look like hell and am bored of watching movies (so far I’ve watched: Blood Diamond, Babel, Pretty In Pink, and some other movie which, for the life of me, I can’t recall the title of- it was that good or I am that sick). It’s 8:30am and I am still in my pajamas. I think it is safe to say, I am not going to make it into work today.
I hate calling in sick. Part of me feels like a total wimp for not bucking up and going in. It’s not like my line of work requires me to have complete use of my body. I sit at a desk and push paper around and sometimes answer the phone. It’s not entirely taxing but when your mental capacity is functioning at 59% maybe it’s best to just go back to bed. What would I really be proving dragging myself into work?
I think our culture values the appearance of work sometimes more than the actual work itself. Like calling in sick is a weakness. Persevere! Buck up little camper! Pack up your Puffs Plus and get on with it! But all that usually ends up doing is making other people around you sick and you more sick, thus prolonging the recovery time with the added bonus of blame from runny nosed, irritated co-workers. Why is it so difficult to just say “I’m sick. I’m not coming in.” without all the guilt? Shouldn’t we support each other in taking care of ourselves?
I live in la la land with these pipe dreams of idealized work environments. Maybe it’s the cold medicine talking.