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The wrath of a woman with a cold (and too out of it to think of anything clever to rhyme with ‘scorned’)

I have a bug.  Not sure what strain and don’t really care.  Yesterday it manifested as a sore throat and a sleepless night.  This morning, I was very tempted to call in sick.

I have never called in sick since I’ve been at my current place of employment.  I have literally even gone to the emergency room and come BACK to work.

When I did call in sick at my other places of employment, it was usually because my son was sick and too young to be sick alone.

I also remembered I had a customer coming in at 9 a.m.  SO! I ‘manned’ up.  Got dressed, put what passed as a happy healthy face on and went to work.

Mini-tangent: Why do they call it ‘manning up’?  Really.  Isn’t it us women who soldier though our days with minimal complaint?

Well, not today baby.  By the time I got to work, I was dizzy, achy, had a headache that wouldn’t quit and the thought of food was so vile I actually only packed some salted tortilla chips and 3 clementines for lunch.

I sent an email to my manager requesting to leave early after I handled the urgent items on my desk.

No reply.


After the customer left my head was now spinning. I was seriously reconsidering the joys of having a swivel chair.

At about 12:30, the male loan officer in the office got the brunt of my pent-up sickly frustration.

“Have I EVER called in?  I feel like I don’t EXIST!  And WHAT is that in my inbox?”  He gingerly withdrew the item and in a small voice asked “well, what do you have going on work wise?”  I think I gaped.  I picked my jaw off of the floor and with watery eyes retorted with “Does it matter?!  Next time I’m just calling in!”  He backed away slowly with “you exist to me …”

I sat feeling very silly and a little sorry for myself and as touched as I could muster up by his comment.  I apologized and we agreed that not feeling well definitely amplifies frustration.

He generously offered that I should go home and rest so that I would ‘be better for tomorrow’.


I get home and crawl on the couch, mindful of the clock and the fact that I had an hour and a half before my son came home from school.

Nodded off after about 45 minutes of whimpering and was awakened by a stream of sunlight hitting me in the face.  I felt like a vampire for a split second – but did not combust.  The heat I felt after the front door closed was a fun new symptom – little fever.

In walks my son.  Does he ask why I’m home?  No.  He grabs the remote and quietly says, (like he’s doing me a favor) “I’m just going to do what I normally do.”  Cartoons are now in my aching ear – and he plops down at the computer.

I give up.  I decide we’re having an early dinner – which I know I have to make.  I do the dishes that I know I have to do –  and with all the maturity of a 43-year-old mom, I stomp off to my room to curl into a little sick ball.  Came out once to hear “what is the dog barking at?”

“I don’t know,” I snapped “Let me check shall I?”

Was pretty close to tears at that point – but that would have pushed me dangerously over the edge into ‘man cold’ territory.

I have T-minus 13 hours to make a miraculous recovery.  When my ears stop ringing, I’ll go find my cape.

Pity Party Permit approved! (Balloon animal artists need not apply …)

I am always grateful for what I have, I keep my detective hat handy for silver lining searching and usually feel happy and serene.  I do!  But after a string of bad luck, I find myself putting pressure on myself to keep my chin so far up it’s affecting me physically.

I have had a headache for three flipping days!

I don’t get headaches. But this one is turning my stomach and pinching my neck and perching in my cranium like a huge fat scratching, pecking rooster.

I already have a heart condition – my sinus node decides at time of rest to lie to my heart and tell it I’m actually jogging.  (How my heart believes this, as I don’t jog, is beyond me).

Minor exertion results in feeling like I ran a marathon, and stressful situations replace my human heart with that of a captured sparrow.

So I’ve been smiling (yeah, sometimes grimacing) and counting my blessings and keeping the faith versus letting the fear in, but my body is not on the same page.

I know I’m not faking my positive attitude, so why then is my body not following?!

Just a few days ago, I actually felt so unwell I was a little concerned I might not see morning.

Not being dramatic – I was truly scared as my heart raced and my chest squeezed.

The thing about having a chronic condition is you get to know what your ‘normal’ feels like.  So when a symptom rears its head that doesn’t fall into that norm, it’s quite frightening.  I had already taken my medicine and I do not have insurance, so a trip to the ER was not in the cards.

I prayed, I pet my dog, I did my relaxation breathing – anything for some relief.

And I saw morning.

(Good thing I cleared that up for you eh?  No one could have guessed that I made it through the night since I’m POSTING! lol).

I got to thinking though, ‘am I setting too high of a standard for myself’?

Why can’t I vent or have a mini-breakdown without feeling like I’m no longer a positive, grateful person?

I Googled crying.  I learned that tears remove toxins.  Crying can elevate your mood (apparently we have a manganese level and if it’s too high, crying helps lower it. Low manganese level = good).  Crying lowers stress.

I’m giving myself permission to throw my body a mini-pity party from time to time.

Not a huge bash, not a wallow in it all-nighter – but a self time-out, acknowledging that maybe sometimes my body needs to ‘let it all out’.

I don’t cry easily – so maybe I can hire an arm pincher instead of a face painter?

Oh, and let there be cake!  🙂