This morning was none better. After a sleepless night of not getting comfortable and of drifting in and out of weird sicky-inducted dreams I got up. Same dealio only now the white patches were more plentiful. But I knew I had to go in to work. Not because I had some big project due, but because I had a long-anticipated hair appointment at 10:00. That could not be missed. I was going red for fall and that was a big deal. (Oh don’t act like you didn’t always try to go school sick if it was a field trip or party-day.)
So I continued my Zicam bender I started the night before and headed off to work. I made it through my first couple hours without too much strain and then headed off to my hair appointment. As the time wore on the more worn I felt. By the time she was rinsing out my new red, I mentioned how crappy I felt.
First, she told me that strep was going around. Wonderful. But then, Shelley said something that caught me off guard: “You’re sick a lot aren’t you?” What? “How do you mean?” I asked. She told me that every time I come to see her I’m either sick, or getting over being sick. She reminded me that this time last year Ryan had to take
Then she mentioned how I was sick so often while I was preggers with Cora and how miserable I was since I couldn’t take any cold medicine. To be fair, part of that was actually allergies. But still it got me thinking. She asked if I was taking a multi-vitamin and I said “no” – but I never have save for my prenatal vitamins.
I remember when I started at the company I’m with now, I didn’t take a sick day for almost two years. What has happened? Have I become that much more prone to sickness? Or am I just a bigger weenie now then I was then about feeling under the weather? Is it the months of lack of sleep that are taking their toll? Now that
So as I sit here at my desk and try not to swallow, I ponder the bigger question of mommyhood, getting older, and the changing workplace. What is simply correlation and what is cause and effect? Will I be able to track down a specific reason or will I just have to accept my sniffles as they come. Will it get better or am I doomed to live as a fragile flower one virus away from life in a bubble? Or is Shelley just over-generalizing things? These are all things I plan to ponder tonight while dosing myself with chicken noodle soup and constant infusions of Zicam. I’ll let you know if I find something worthy of disclosure to the CDC.