07 August, 2008

I hate being sick.

Here is how it works for me. I have a very fragile immune system. I used to get bronchitis every few years, like clockwork. Every time there is a new strain of cold or flu around, I am always one of the first to take it for a test drive. Why get a flu shot? I always told myself. I'll just end up with next year's strain anyway. I am one of the few people I know who has had chicken pox twice. I had a case of strep that took me literally months to get over (stupid antibiotics). And finally, I got tuberculosis on my mission (no lie) and ever since then my immune system has pretty much been on strike. Each time I come down with a cold part of me wonders, is this TB? The real deal? Is this the end? Should I be writing out my will? Shouldn't I at least get to make love to Ewan McGregor before I succumb?

Then I remember one favorable side effect, if you will, of my chronic illness: I am very good at taking medicine. I have taken every dose of my TB medication at the same time every day, just like clockwork. Piece. Of Cake. There is no way I have TB unless for some crazy reason the medication doesn't work. In which case I have a bone to pick with a bogglingly large number of people.

However, I believe the TB medication, or perhaps the disease itself, has crippled my immune system to Beth March levels, or possibly Tiny Tim in Scrooge's second vision. I seem to come down with a cold every other week. But here's the really frustrating thing about me: I always see it coming. I start to feel sick, and wonder if I should take it easy for a few days to prevent myself from getting more sick.

Then I think, nah. Which always results in my getting really sick and being miserable for a few days. And ruing all the time I spent trying to be productive when I knew I wasn't feeling well.
This is really quite telling. I push myself too hard until its too late. And I have such a negative attitude that I always tell myself I'll probably end up sick anyway, so I might as well try to get stuff done now.

What an idiot.

So it happened again. I am feeling far too sick to go work the past few days, but I've been going anyway because my employer prefers a sick nanny who does nothing but watch movies and sneak naps with her kids than, you know, actually taking care of the kids herself. Early on in our working partnership, we had the following conversation. This is verbatim.

Me: Hello? *cough cough cough* I am feeling really sick today, and I don't want to give these germs to the kids ...
My Employer: I don't mind. Come on over.

Talk about an entirely different meaning of "sick." But whatever. It's T minus fifteen days till I return to some sort of rational job that doesn't fill my soul with hatred for the rich and love for darling blond boys, spun together with guilt.

Anyway, I have been doing precious little besides sleeping, showering and watching movies all week. Which is a huge bummer because I was actually invited to do lots of really cool stuff this week. I even got Thursday night off work so I could go to dinner at a friend's house, then go to the MTC, where I have been MIA for months. But instead I am sitting here, having just polished off half a watermelon, and getting ready to either sleep some more or watch Say Anything.

I am surrounded by packing boxes, clothes that need to be folded and put away, mail that needs to be sorted, and bags of crap I don't want to take to DI. My computer is reminding me that I need to finish my resumé, sign up for that graduate class, pay some bills, email my loan officer, prepare my MTC lesson, brush up on Hungarian, yada yada YADA YADA AUGHHHH KILL ME NOW.

Maybe that's why God makes me sick so often. So I will just stop.

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