Sick of Being Sick

Sitting in two professional development sessions, I could feel the DayQuil and Mucinex finally wear off as I tried to suppress a horrible, chest-heavy cough.  I had limited success, as I coughed into a napkin.  I sounded so *awful* that some attendants oh-so-slightly moved away from me.

“Sorry, sorry,” I whispered.  I whipped out an alcohol wet wipe from its packet and quietly but furiously wiped my hands after I putting the napkin in my pocket.  The folks around me seemed to appreciate that gesture.

I am sick.  Again, I might add.  If I tally all the days that I’ve been sick, in contrast when I’ve been well these past few months, I’ve been more sick than not.  Not debilitating enough to call in sick days (which is good, because I have none now), but enough to feel so totally wiped out every time I come home from work that all I want to do is sleep.  It makes for a teacher be continually behind on grading and an involuntarily anti-social person.

::sigh::  Time for more meds now.


About lizardqueen

If single-mothering were a paid job, I'd be rich. However, it doesn't, so I write (which doesn't pay the bills) and teach (which does). I'm overly-educated in the liberal arts, but that doesn't hinder my ability to be pragmatic and realistic. YAY.
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