Until today I thought it was my stellar work ethic that kept me from taking sick days, although my general decent health probably contributed too. (This was the second sick day I’ve taken in over 2.5 years.) Something I learned about myself today, during my many empty hours of self-reflection, is that I am BAD at sick days. This is entirely different from being bad at being sick (although I’m miserable at that too) and being a troublesome patient (I prefer the term “involved” and I’m very upfront about it). What I am talking about here is my deficiency at staying at home, in bed, recuperating. I suck at it. Suck. At. It.
I am pretty sick little monkey. Part of me is considering staying home again tomorrow or at the very least working a short day, that is pretty low functioning. (The family I work for is totally supportive of me adjusting “our” day when I need to: participating in naptime, the occasional a/v activity, no-cook lunches, etc.) Unfortunately, while my physical health would probably (definitely) benefit from another day off, I’m not sure that my mental health can take it.
dribs and drabs 