Thursday, November 06, 2008

Admitting defeat...

I was sick yesterday and stayed home from work. I easily cold have stayed home today as well, but honestly I don't think I've ever taken two sick days in a row in my life. I had perfect attendance most years in school. My mom didn't let us stay home unless we were throwing up. I've typically not used more than two sick days a year since beginning to work some 20 years ago. I hate being sick - but even more I hate missing work for being sick.

I know that if I'm sick, it's better not to go i and infect my co-workers. And I'm organized enough, that I can typically tell - like I did yesterday - that I didn't have anything super urgent on my plate and with just a few emails cold convey the info my co-workers needed to follow-up on the couple of time sensitive issues. But I just feel guilty calling in and saying I won't be there.

I think part of it stems from my childhood. As I said, we didn't stay home sick unless we were REALLY sick. I don't ever remember going to the doctor because I was sick. I went when I cracked my skull open and needed stitches. I went when I had chicken pox. But I didn't go because I ad a cold or the flu. We didn't get antibiotics or codeine. I remember hearing my parents speak negatively about parents who took their kids to the doctors, saying they were coddling them. I guess I learned that to be sick, is to be weak. And if there is one thing I am not - or at least don't like to admit - is weak.

I know now that's silly. But a part of it is still there. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to be sick. So enough already!

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