I’m sick today. I woke up in the middle of the night nauseous as hell with a splitting headache on top of the rashes that I’ve had for days. When my 5:15 alarm went off this morning, I knew that I was a hard ‘no’ for getting up that early. It only took me a couple of more minutes to decide that I wasn’t going to work that day – my first sick day from work in at least seven years. I was fairly convinced that COVID had finally found me, but a rapid test told me otherwise. Ms. Boss (again, much smarter than I) clued me in that medicines existed to at least knock the edge off of my symptoms and help me recover. I forgot I was an ‘ignorant male’ for a few minutes and agreed to take them. By mid-morning, I was convinced that taking a sick day was stupid, but then the Benadryl kicked in and I spent the next five hours sleeping. I feel better, not great, but at least better.
As I mentioned in RST 36, I have psoriasis. My mother drove me over an hour away to a dermatologist to get this diagnosis when I was about eight years old. I’ve done very little to mitigate the problem since then outside of applying cortisone cream when things start to hurt and applying a band-aid when things are really bad. I’ve been in ‘remission’ (if there is such a thing) for several years where I only get occasional reminders that I suffer from this. The ‘good times’ ended for me a couple of weeks ago when I started getting a spot on my left thumb followed by other places. It was soon followed by rashes all over my body which may be either directly or circumstantially related. If you listen to the marketing hype of the pharmaceutical companies, I should be ashamed of this and should take their drugs so that I don’t look like I have grotesque deformities. Then they go through the possible side effects of the medication that they’re shilling. I don’t care if the chances that I will get anything on that list is tremendously remote, I’m still a hard ‘no’.
I mentioned in RST 55 that ginger ale is the drink of choice when I don’t feel well. Regrettably, not a drop of ginger ale exists in the house today. Since I’m not nauseous and have eaten quite a bit today, I think I’m okay. Besides, I have grape fizzy water to drink.
The last time I itched as bad as I have over the past couple of days is when I got poison ivy in my forties (I’m not all that convinced that is what I have at the moment). Before that? Chicken pox when I was in second grade. While I remember very little about my bout with the chicken pox, I do retain one memory that is crystal clear. I had a pock on my right butt cheek that was right where I sat on the toilet. Whenever I sat down, it hurt like hell. My mom did something to help me through this episode, but I can’t remember what it was. It’s funny how things like that get seared into your brain. I forget so many important things these days, why in the hell can’t I get rid of that memory and use the space for something more important and meaningful.
It’s back to work tomorrow for me no matter what. I cannot stand to miss work because, at least to me, it seems like things get out of control when I miss. Despite my ‘day off’ status, I’ve probably put in a good hour of work for my employer this morning. I woke after my five-hour nap and checked my email almost first thing. You know what? The world went on without me and things got handled. I guess this fact brings about a slight existential crisis for me. Am I as important as I think I am? Do I need to let things go? Should I be okay with just stepping away when I need to? Should I allow myself to take a sick day more often? Will it, in the end, be better if I get the rest I need? I guess we’ll just have to see the next time 5:15 rolls around and I don’t want to get out of bed.