Having fought on both sides of "The Mommy Wars," I feel rather qualified to weigh in on some of the pros and cons that the mothers of America face in their own personal battles. From time to time, I hope to cover my observations here. A point that I hadn't considered before made itself apparent in the previous week and I feel it is my duty to share my opinion.
Score one for the working moms: Paid sick days.
Oh, never mind. I'm not taking sides here. But it just dawned on me that in my previous life, no matter what ailed me, I was unable to relinquish my duties, let alone be paid to recover.
Last Wednesday I began losing my voice. I wasn't feeling remarkably icky (good news: icky passes spell check), but it was out of the norm enough for me to comment to Chef that, (and I quote) "I never get sick." By Thursday, I could barely squeak. At work again, a nurse decided to peer in my mouth, only to loudly exclaim, "Your throat looks like #@*t!", then gleefully showed me off to two others before telling me that she thought I had strep and needed to get a rapid test. Pronto.
It never would've crossed my mind that this could be any more than a mere cold. But now that the charge nurse had made her diagnosis, I couldn't pass through the hallway without being hounded as to whether or not I had made an appointment with my Dr. So I did. No strep. It was the flu.
Now again, without someone telling my how ill I was, I would've called it a cold and sipped an extra cuppa tea. What amused me most (yes, as a matter of fact, I was amused) was that this year, for the first time in 15, I agreed to a flu shot. I don't much buy into immunizations -- most certainly not the "let's take a stab at which strains might hit your region" ones, but I thought as a gesture to protect my residents who have suppressed immune systems, I would take an extra measure of care. Suffice it to say, there will be no injection (nor its accompanying bruise) next year.
Anyway. . .Chef and I agreed that it would be best that I take Friday off. Better I recover sooner than later. So Friday morning I scooted the kids off to school and came home. Not feeling too far under the weather, I tidied the kitchen, had my tea, goofed on Facebook, and started making plans for a mellow, yet productive day of rest. I took my shower, took a gander at the computer once again and basically melted where I sat. I was wiped.
A three hour nap later, plus two more hours laying helplessly in bed craving curry, I acknowledged that I was not well. It was my night with the kids so I had to pull myself together. And I did. I managed a trip to the store for milk and cilantro and whipped up a delightful green curry. I think I ate three servings and felt quite a bit better afterward. Lesson: Listen to your cravings.
Saturday I worked. Way more sitting than usual, but everyone was fed. And Sunday, more of the same. I feel pretty good now. No complaints from me. I enjoyed a few episodes of Good Eats on the computer while debilitated. The bug came and went quickly. And I got paid to nap.
I suppose I could've said, "I was under the weather and now I feel better." But then you would know that I was really sick.