I have been sick since Sunday. I very rarely get sick and am usually immune to the "something's definitely go around" syndrome. I wasn't so lucky this year. What's scary is how quickly my condition spiraled from a sore throat, to a sore throat and chronic cough, to a sore throat, chronic cough and runny nose, to a sore throat, chronic cough, runny nose and splitting headache. I actually called out sick from work on both Monday and Tuesday. I know some people who think nothing of taking sick days, proceeding in the mind set "use the days or lose the days". I know still other people who, at the first sign of a sniffle, make an appointment for the doctor. (Reminds me of the Brady Bunch episode when Cindy's sneeze was a sure sign that she would need her tonsils out and would miss the trip on Mr. Philip's "broken down barnacle barge". Talk about alarmists!) Anyway, I do not fall into either of those categories and have gone years without calling out sick. If I struggle too much with questions such as "am I really sick enough to miss work?" or "How much work is going to pile up in my absence?", I assume it is not worth staying home and just suck it up. I blame this annoying, but boss-loving work ethic on my dear mother. She never let me take a sick day from school unless I had a fever. In ninth grade, I was in danger of "winning" the perfect attendance record and I begged her to let me play hooky just once in order to avoid the honor. At the time, I was grateful that she obliged. Her strict rules with respect to "how sick is sick enough" stuck with me.



Perhaps it's because I am in a bit of a rut at work or maybe I did feel that bad when I woke up on Monday morning, but I did not hesitate to leave a message with my boss stating that I would not be in that day. At the time, I assumed it would be just the one day but, as the hours slipped away and All My Children turned into One Life To Life into General Hospital, my condition progressively worsened and, by the time the sun set, I was coughing uncontrollably. I called my boss at 4:00AM and left him a message that I would not be in again on Tuesday. That morning, after almost fainting in the shower, I went to Duane Reade and, at the pharmacist's suggestion, bought Mucinex D. I actually started crying at the cash register because I had cold sweats, could not feel the ground beneath my feet, and thought I might puke any second. Thankfully, I made it home, took my first dose of medication and got back into bed. Within hours, my cough was under control and my sore throat virtually disappeared. Although the runny nose remained, I deemed myself sufficiently healthy to return to work on Wednesday. Everyone listened to my plea to "pretend I wasn't there" and left me alone to simply catch up on my existing work rather than request my assistance on new matters. Currently, I am not feeling even 50% of my optimal health, and will likely spend the majority of my three day weekend recovering, but I am now confident that I am not going to die. That is good news!



The additional good news is that, because I was under the weather physically, I did not have the energy to be depressed that Valentines Day was once again upon us and I did not have a special person with whom to celebrate. Rather than lament my single status as I often do in the days preceding Valentines Day, I have been lucky enough to spend my last few days popping pills, overdosing on soup and praying that tomorrow will be the day that I wake up without a splitting sinus headache and 18 used tissues at the side of my bed. I did not feel well enough to envy (or despise) the "attached" women in my work place as they joyously cut the stems from their roses and spoke excitedly about their evening plans. I was too concerned with keeping myself hydrated to care that all I received for Valentines Day this year was a white rose from one of the mailroom guys at work (he bought one for every woman in the office) and an email from a guy I used to date containing the phrase "Happy V-Day". (I have no idea if the "V" stood for "Valentines" Day, "Vagina" Day or "Very" happy that I am no longer dating you day.) In fact, it would actually be a worse Valentines Day if I did have a boyfriend since I have no appetite for a fancy dinner, no sense of smell for a dozen roses and no energy to spend the night having sex.




I can only hope that if I am single again next year at this time, I will be lucky enough to catch another bout of the flu.




Happy Valentines Day friends. Ha-choo!