The Land of Living Stones

In my family, being sick was not really anything special. There was usually no reason to seek medical attention, and never any reason for staying home. I don’t say this seeking pity, just to explain that treating illness as such was not something I really understood. Except for first grade, when I was mandated (by the school) to stay home with the chicken pox, and some time when I got lice from my sister and was forced to leave school early–but we washed em all away before the next day (lice like clean hair, OK?!). Otherwise, I had perfect attendance from grades 1-12. Needless to say, they didn’t give any awards for that after about third grade.

In elementary school I know it would have been very costly and difficult for my two working parents to find someone to watch me if I stayed home. In high school I couldn’t bear to be away from classes even one day for fear of getting too far behind on my coursework. So I came to school every day, carrying all manner of infectious diseases, mostly not even knowing what I had. Coughing, sneezing, wheezing…who knows how many people got sick on account of me! Of course, I wasn’t the only one.

So now that I’m working in a college, where people value their health a lot, I have been told on numerous occasions to stay away from the office while I’m ill. I mean, I’m certain they care about me being sick too, but I have never felt so encouraged to not go to work. Yes, I am like seriously down with the flu, and there is very good reason to be home and resting. But it’s strange to feel like not going out is the best thing to do…since I’m accustomed to blustering on straight through infections and viruses like there’s nothing wrong. On the other hand, now I’m terrified that I will actually make someone else sick (aside from my roommate who has already caught my germs) and they’ll hate me forever for coming in to work.