Yesterday I reached such a giant state of fatigue that in the middle of some pointless meeting I almost keeled over and fainted. I actually had to put my head between my legs. While examining my shoes (i really need to polish my danskos) my eyes swept over my blue/green/yellow colored thumb and I almost passed out right then and there. Nothing is more nauseating then one’s own discoloration. Were people alarmed? No, in fact the woman I was having a meeting with said, “Well, we can stop now, OMIGOD I’m going to be late to pick up my daughter from school! The parking lot is going to be a nightmare! Oh, and today is the day she has a playdate too…”

Now, the worst thing about being hurt/sick, etc. is feeling people’s pity. A little pity is ok, right, we all like people empathizing with us. It does not feel good, however, to have people look you over with a mix of dismay, pity, and slight irritation. So, I’m not saying that I want people bending over backwards, sharing with me their own tragic tales of sprained limbs, or hell, even cooing, “Awwww.” However, yesterday I was surprised at how much negative insensitivity was thrown at me. Sure, we’re overworked and underpaid. We’ve already plowed through four office managers in one year and now we’re priming a fifth one. Me walking in with my hand in a splint, eyes fogged over from yet another late night rehearsal, almost passing out is looked at as merely halting productivity. The weak do not survive. No one has time.

Today I bought some dark chocolate, left work at a reasonable hour, and folded a mountain of laundry. This is the last week where I will endure rehearsals every night from 7pm-10pm. Soon, my sister will move out. Before you know it Josh will stop working at night. Hopefully, things will feel more normal…in the meantime my thumb looks awesome!