Sick days, sick days

Dear new golden sick days

Sniffling and sneezing and hacking cough

Kept me at home on a rare day off.

Were I a teacher I’d go to work

Share all my germs, make my illness worse.

But the job I have now I can duty shirk

Without hurting a classroom of kids.

— (my revised, working girl version of the 1907 song “School Days”)

Yesterday I went to work even though I felt terrible. My head was aching, my throat was sore, and I knew I was battling something. But I had an afternoon meeting I didn’t want to reschedule, and I knew I could muscle through the day with a little help from ibuprofen and friends. My symptoms weren’t visually apparent, and I tried to keep mostly to myself so as not to share the joy. But when I mentioned to my supervisor that I was feeling a bit under the weather, she said, “Go home!”

I didn’t, but it struck me that I could.

I am a technical editor with eight hours of work daily. I get to work early and sometimes scrimp on my personal lunch hour because I like to get work done. But I have generous deadlines, an equally generous, perpetual pile of work, and I leave work daily knowing I did the best I could and that I can take up tomorrow where I left off today.

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