Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Shoo Flu


Sick days aren't what they used to be. Back in the day a few sneezes in the morning coupled with a migraine or scratchy throat would prove as a great excuse to stay in and rest myself back to health. It was amazing what a couple of extra hours in bed and some retail therapy were able to do in such a short amount of time. Just like a decent working pen though, vacation and sick days are hard to come by in the working world. I treasure those that I have, and try to use them sparingly.

Yet there I was at 5:13 A.M. on Tuesday making that dreaded phone call: "I won't be able to make it in today due to illness." Taking a sick day when actually being sick. An action not deemed necessary since my bout with Strep throat freshman year of college. The stomach flu had me bound by its cold sweats and severe nausea in the captivity of my bed, taking for ransom my few and lovely available sick hours. The worst part of it was I had no clue what the treatments for it were. Skilled in the treatments of post-intoxication syndrome, and spring wardrobe fever, I often fall short in the area of domestic remedies. Why would I though, when I have dear ol' Mom to mass communicate with?

Immediately after my dawn breaking phone call into work, I shot an e-mail to my Mom (as I was too dehydrated to vocalize over the phone wires a second time in a row) asking exactly what to buy at my neighborhood pharmacy, should I ever be able to roll out of bed again. A couple of bizarre lucid dreams, silenced cries of joint pains, and failed attempts at being able to lift my own self up, I was able to make the half mile trip to Target. It quickly became clear that I should not have been operating a vehicle nor have traveled without water. It was nothing short of a miracle that the Target associate was able to make out "Pedialyte" through my heaving and shaking voice. As it turned out, I could have saved those sacred bits of oxygen, as she had the item confused with "BeneFlex" and other such products. Seeing as I had no time to waste until my next passout, I immediately put in another call to Mom, who advised me in the direction of the infant section. Needless to say a few concerned glances were directed my way by some mothers-of-the-year.

While I had my doubts throughout the day, I was able to get back in good health just in time for the Wednesday workday. Unfortunately with it brought the realization that the sick days of quasi-illnesses may now be gone. On the bright side, a mother's advice never seems to fade.

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