I never realized the health hazards of my job until suffering from strep throat on Thanksgiving Day. I used to get strep quite a bit when I was in college. But I had forgotten how terrible it is to be unable to swallow, to feel blood in the back of your throat, to have a high fever. I wanted to quit my job. I still want to quit, a little bit, because I used to think that one major illness meant I was spared for a good year. Now, I know that it’s only a matter of time until the next Big Thing comes rolling through my bod. Sure, I got a flu shot last Monday, sure I frequently wash my hands and try not to touch my face. What else can I do? As of last week three teachers had come down with strep, it was only a matter of time I suppose.
The positive was that my parents were awesome and took really great care of me and isn’t it the best to be sick with your Mom hovering around? It makes me sad that my Thanksgiving vacation time became my recovery time but I suppose it secures a healthier outcome. Even now I’m spending an in-service day at home, my rationale was simple: Sit in a conference room debating the school’s cirriculum, or stay at home near the toilet and the antibiotics. This is the first day since getting sick where I haven’t had to sleep four hours in the afternoon to get through the day. Laundry is churning downstairs, Hobbes finally gave up her quest to go outdoors, and my jewelry is freshly drying on my art board. Snow is in the forcast but I don’t believe it for a moment. Ha! Sure, there’s a small part of me that hopes for a snow day, a time to avoid dragging my butt out of bed, but I also want some normality.