Thursday, March 11, 2010

a very grumpy rant about defenseless sick people. sorry.

I am so sick of sick people.

I have doled out every ounce of sympathy that my shriveled heart could muster. I’m fresh out. If you are a child or spouse or employee of mine, I beg and plead with you to just buck the hell up and stop complaining.

Also, please stop coughing on me.

I’ve tried; I’ve really tried and tried and tried to be patient and comforting and helpful, but people… come on. Enough!

It’s one thing if you’re being brave by acting like everything is normal even though you are clearly sick. If I can tell that you are sick without you actually saying so, I’ll probably ask about your symptoms and offer supportive advice. If, however, you start to cough with purpose every time I walk into the room, if you feel the need to drop in to my office every 10 minutes to talk about your phlegm and moan inconsolably, if you ask me whether or not you feel hot? Oh, citizen. You are SO on my shit list.

I am certain that the very writing of these words will incur the wrath of the gods upon my health. Am I alone with this rant?

I do not doubt the existence of your virus, I don’t want you to come to work or go to school when you are sick. Sure, I wish you’d take better care of yourself so you could recover more quickly, but I don’t begrudge you the right to be incapacitated every once in a while. It’s the chronic, lingering crap with a side dose of the martyr syndrome that gets to me. I firmly believe that at a certain point, you have to look your illness in the eye and let it know who’s boss. Here’s my theory on an acceptable trajectory for most common illnesses:

Phase 1: You know it’s coming

Symptoms: The tickle is in the back of your throat or the bubble is percolating in your gut.

Treatment: Rest as much as you can, drink water, wash your damn hands. Try to sweat it out at the gym, but if that makes you feel worse then take a day off (from working out) and hit the couch, preferably with blankies. Go to bed early, lay off the booze.

Phase 2: It’s here

Symptoms: Full blown cold, actual barfing with or without accompanying ha-has. Fever.

Treatment: Hit the deck. Take a day off from work. Do whatever makes you feel better and try not to infect the rest of us, thank you very much. Drink water.

Phase 3: Get over it

Symptoms: Lingering cough or sniffle, nauseous feeling

Treatment: Buck up. Drink water. Go to work and get back to the gym, but take it easier than usual. When you get home, have a drink – I swear that tequila once cured my mono. Then go to bed.

The end. The END, people. End it.


not messing with the health god in PA said...

please post when the gods bestow their wrath on you 'cause I sense it's coming ;)
and then go to bed, drink lots of fluids (unless that's what's coming out both ends) and wash your hands!

Me, You, or Ellie said...

Dude, you're a crack up. You should post this on your office wall. Well, the Phase I, II, and III parts at least. Not the part about your employees coming in to talk about their phlegm. Phlegm is disgusting. It even sounds disgusting. Just like pus does.

I'm a very stoic, and very rare sick person. I just sleep. Then wake up and drink wine. Cures me every time.


breastaholics said...

Drink beer every day.

REOagent said...

Amen sista!! Don't forget about the old man injuries. Trust me the wincing is just as bad as the moaning. If you get hurt trying to convince yourself you are still 20, you need to shut the f up when you get hurt!!! BTW-how come working moms NEVER get sick or injured???

Me, You, or Ellie said...

I so love your title. And your acceptable trajectory. And breastaholics advice above.

We really should all get plenty of sleep, wash our hands, work out, and drink lots of water, beer, and sometimes tequila.


Me, You, or Ellie said...

The world would be a better place....


♥ Braja said...

Well said :))