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Don’t Hate Me; I’m Human

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Samantha Lee
Samantha Lee

So, I’ve been sick this week. And we’re talkin’ biblical proportions.

This week I have consumed:
 
Two packs of Panadol.
Half a pack of Vicks throat lozenges.
One pack of Lemsip throat lozenges when the Vicks throat lozenges resigned in protest.
Three bottles of Redbull.
One drink of tea with honey, which, for those of you that don’t know, apparently cures everything but actually does nothing but make you wonder why anyone would put honey in tea. Or actually drink tea, for that matter.
One pack Salada crackers.
One chicken fillet Subway sandwich when subsisting on Salada crackers got old.
Eighty four thousand coffees.
Water. A whole frickin’ lot of water.
 
Has anyone noticed how being sick makes you want to maim and destroy all the people that really just want to help you? I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of people were very glad that I holed myself up for a few days this week (not least of all because I’m so New Zealand’s Top Anti-Model looking and y’know, contagious.)
It also makes you want to whinge. Which is why this blog is nothing so much as a kind of cathartic wondering on the inner workings of a sick person’s mind, and also an attempt to forget the fact that I can’t drown myself in my bath, because I live in an apartment and I don’t have one.
 
For those that feel that, really, they don’t care that Mt Everest has landed on my left shoulder and is trying to force its way into my front temporal lobe via my ear- go. That’s fine. Karma will probably get you, although Karma probably also has better things to do with it’s time.
 
Everyone else, I want an answer from; who else feels guilty when they have to take time off work?
Seriously, even on Monday, when I was doing things like putting my shirt on backwards, deciding the new storage place for my sugar and coffee would be the fridge, and washing my hair three times in the shower, because clearly twice was not enough to remember if I’d washed it- I was worrying.
I went to work, all the time anxious that they would not be able to cope without me. I was coughing and sneezing and earning disgusted looks from people on the bus, all the time thinking that I’d be letting people down, that I’d be thought of as less than Little Miss Super Organized if I (god forbid) took a day off.
Then I went to work, signed off two deliveries to go to the wrong places, send a report in late because it took me that long to figure out how to do it, snapped at a co-worker, and answered the phone very brusquely to my Uber-Boss, all the while maintaining to concerned and somewhat frightened onlookers that I was fine. I. Was. Fine.
Happily or unhappily, however you choose to view it- my body decided Enough Was Bloody Enough and rendered me practically comatose the rest of the week, and unable to systematically destroy the rest of my career.
However, had I not been hopped up on my one remaining Night and Day Pill and dreaming that I’d gone to work naked and had to finish my photocopying, I would have actually gone to work and finished my photocopying. (Not naked.)
 
So this is weird, right? I’m the only super-freak out there that actually wants to work?
Ha! Not so! Evidence from Google means I’m (relatively) normal- from what I gather a lot of people have variances on this issue-
They feel like their boss won’t believe them and feel like they have to give a long, detailed explanation, so show up to avoid the drama.
They feel like they won’t be able to meet deadlines.
That they will be worth less in their co-workers eyes.
 
Then there’s the flip side- those who don’t give a rat’s, and routinely take the-
Three day weekend route.
The my-grandmother’s-sister’s-uncle’s-goat is sick line.
The Watch ‘The Notebook’ and Eat Chocolate Bad Break Up Health Day.
 
From now on, I’m going to change my ways, and go for the sensible take, which seems to be that if you are sick, and go to work, you are going to either pass it on, (which your co-workers will be eternally grateful for), or you are going to work to less than the required standard and take longer to get better because you are putting your body under strain.
 
My new advice? You’re human- take the day off.
 
As for me, it’s back to bed- enjoy your evil floating pathogen of doom free day!

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