sick day

The Teacher's Lament Haiku

Can do stuff sitting!

Thinking - I could go to school;

head spins when I stand...

I really, really hate not doing anything. And having other people do my job. But I keep telling myself staying home and resting is better than risking bodily harm [to myself & others...].

Stupid flu.

blech

I'm a terrible sick person.

First of all, I hate admitting I am sick. Second, as much as I enjoy random pampering any other time in my life, I am sheepish about accepting the loving gestures of friends & family when I actually need it most. I even get a little grouchy about continued queries into my well-being; I like to believe that's part of the being sick and not that I am simply bitchy. Whatever.

But last week our principal kindly admonished the staff to TAKE THE SICK DAY if we start to feel crummy. You might think educators would be on top of the whole "Don't spread illness" and "You can't do your best when you don't feel your best" thing, and I'd like to say it's because we're so committed to our jobs that we keep showing up (it mostly is, really). However, part of our unmotivation to call a sub is the need to write sub plans; sometimes it is just easier to tough out the day rather than try remembering to tell our replacement about all the weird little nuances of each class and/or student. As a former substitute who has delighted in brilliant notes and experienced mild anxiety over nonexistent ones, I am vigilant about writing detailed plans. And that takes a bit of time & energy, a couple of things I tend to be lacking when calling in sick.

Today, though, I had a moment during 2nd period when I felt the familiar symptoms of passing out, which would be Not Good with capital letters. After having some lunch & hydrating, I felt less like fainting but then my head started hurting. By the end of the day, every part of me was throbbing and I had lost all connection with sensible teaching skills. I drove home, fell into an alarmingly deep sleep for 20 minutes, felt okay enough to have dinner with my best friend across the street, then rallied to arrange for a sub & write up lessons.

I'll spend tomorrow dozing, trying not to worry about what I left out of my plans, in hopes of feeling better for Friday. And not just because there might be a Happy Hour gathering after school.

be back after danger of contagion has passed

Something mighty & mean has invaded my body, draining the energy I planned to use for uploading pictures of my Seattle trip, watching Six Feet Under, and, oh yeah, working.

So I direct you back to this underloved gem from the days before TV addictions and a regular paying job.

Now I must go sleep, and then sleep a little more. Followed by sleeping.

sicko

I played Nurse Mom to my feverish boy today. Apparently my mad oatmeal-preparing, banana-peeling, and water-pouring skills worked magic.

Many thanks to my colleagues for taking up the slack of my classes so I could get this kid rested, healthy and back to school; I've heard something about important Valentine plans...

strike one

Good news: What I have is clearly not the flu because today I have gladly eaten, without intestinal recourse, a pumpkin cream cheese muffin & soy chai latte, 2 slices of English white Cheddar & 4 Kalamata olives, three small squares of homemade brownies, and reheated sweet potato fries.

Bad news: My head throbs & vision gets slightly blurry if I move too quickly (including yawning) AND my nose is painfully stuffy when I sit in one position too long.

No social activity for me tonight, sorry PTA. I don't even know if I can keep a date with The Sopranos. Or my new Facebook zealots friends...

God says, "stay home and do your laundry"

I had big plans again for today involving Goodwill, my classroom, and lunch with a fellow teacher. And I'm now remembering a hilarious little saying about making God laugh by telling Him your plans. Because 200 yards from the entrance to Super Fun Day Camp this morning, Paige announced her stomachhurtsandfeelskindabarfy. Luckily, we pilfered a few hospital-strength vomit bags from the ER a few months back and stashed them in the car. So I signed in Mason at camp (praying the barfiness was about breakfast and not a virus I'm now spreading to the greater Vancouver area) and drove straight home with my sad girl clutching her blue plastic tube of yuck.

No Goodwill, no classroom, no lunch out (sorry, Monica, who I hope is reading because I can't find her cell number).

But YES to laundry, cleaning bedrooms, touching up paint around the house, possibly planning lessons for next year. Which really means "watching kid TV and going through old magazines all day."

blackouts = god's friendly kick in the ass

Super short story: I passed out yesterday morning and had to spend dawn's early hours in the ER figuring out why. Which I didn't, really.

Hi, my name is Stephanie and I'm an overachiever.

Things I learned from a visit to the emergency room:

1. Multiple individuals (not all badged professionals) get to see, probe, poke and otherwise manipulate various parts of my exposed body
2. It's important to stay on top of the leg & armpit shaving (EKG stickers hurt more coming off when they bring copious amounts of hair with them)
3. Food is not considered a basic necessity; no one offers it nor knows how to find it
4. Some people there have jobs involving no medical knowledge whatsoever - one sunny young woman popped in to see if I was ready to go [three hours later] and when I said "Sure! How do I get out of this IV and heart monitor situation?" she looked puzzled, then asked how we'd like to pay for our ER visit
5. Some people are at the emergency room against their will. Loudly. A nurse closed the door to my room (thus confusing me when I came back from the bathroom) because an individual had been wheeled in cursing loudly; there was concern about my kids hearing profanity. That's sweet.

Super Blackout Mom, at your service

The general scoop is that with my tendency toward low blood pressure, I am prone to spilling spells and must watch myself especially when stressed or sick or tired (hmm...let's just say, all the time). But my potassium was extraordinarily low, possibly due to four days of the nastiest flu in Dodge, and that will send a body down fast, too.

I like to look at this episode as God's not-so-gentle way of saying "TOO MUCH, FOOLISH HUMAN!" and "HOW'S ABOUT YOU EAT THE WAY YOU'RE ALWAYS BERATING YOUR FAMILY TO EAT?" and maybe "STOP WITH THE OCD ALREADY; GOOD ENOUGH WORKS." I like to think I'm the in-control one; that will have to change. Letting go. Right...now.

not dead yet

To find out just how much better I'm feeling, get thee to A-Lister posthaste. I think I'll go for a walk...

will i be better by oscar night?

My brain feels like the little pyramid sloshing around in its plastic Magic 8 Ball© skull.

I like this answer. Now crossing my fingers and performing other paganistic activities.

(Kidding, God!)

infected

Warning! Do not touch, poke, lick, inhale around, or otherwise come into contact with your computer screen. The viral nastiness inhabiting me makes my hair follices ache, my ear lobes burn; it hurts to hurt.

I wish I had something super fun to say or do, but I have to lie down again. Visit some of my favorite people in the sidebar, or earn some rice for hungry people while boosting your vocabulary. Come back tomorrow; I'll try to be pithy after a Nyquil-induced sleep.

you might want to stand back

I got out of bed this morning with that ominous thick throat feeling. My head also felt a little bloated and when I swallowed, slightly scratchy soreness. And today was not a day when staying home would work out in anyone's favor - I had been in a foggy half-sleep rethinking all of my day's lessons for about an hour before I finally slumped into the bathroom. Calling for a substitute and saying "Yeah, I don't really have anything decent for you to do with my 70 students today. Have fun!" seemed like bad form.

I quickly downed a vial of magical juju homeopathic flu prevention medication and began my day in optimistic denial. Wash face, take shower, - no, I do not feel faint - get dressed, put on new Happy-early-Valentine's-Day-thank-me! watch, pack lunches, fix breakfasts, brush out girl's squirrel nest hair. ALL IS WELL!

Once at school, I miraculously (thank you, tiny 8 pound six ounce baby Jesus) created the best. lesson. ever. It won't, of course, sound nearly as brilliant if I describe it to you here but essentially it took advantage of Foundmagazine.com and spawned some entertaining conversation plus clever writings. Yay me! In the midst of Best Lesson Ever, I brewed myself a bit of tea because, after the initial panic-turned-inspiration of the morning, I realized the scratchy throat nonsense had returned. Grrr.

I maintained a healthy sense of reality-rejection throughout the day only to feel myself running slower and foggier as I went through a dentist appointment, picking up kids, making dinner, grocery shopping and finishing this post. I still have composition books to look at, brie & bread to eat, LOST & Survivor to watch...Must prioritize.

Hello, mate.

150 things you may or may not care about

This just in - go to my A-Lister blog for more. (I'm not dead yet; I'm feeling better).

optimist

My cold has created not only the requisite stuffed nose and scratchy throat, but also these remarkable new sore eye socket & swollen ear feelings; the leftover Chinese food from dinner has engulfed the entire kitchen counter area, except where dirty dishes abound; the movie I picked to watch with my best friend & our husbands (Music & Lyrics) was roundly disliked by the best friend even though it has the required happy ending; I am profoundly tired and should sleep for at least 12 hours, yet ought to be up and ready for a 9 am meeting with Friends of the Library tomorrow.

HOWEVER, if I sit up very straight, I can breathe through my nose and if I don't talk or swallow my throat feels okay. The eyes & ears are manageable when I distract myself with the other symptoms. The Chinese food was delicious and my amazing, fantastic, Mark Wahlberg-lookalike husband (love you, babe!) is cleaning every surface as I type. I personally loved the movie even though, as my mysteriously irritated best friend kept pointing out, Drew & Hugh are 15 years apart; my Fountains of Wayne wrote a bunch of songs for the soundtrack and "Radiation Vibe" was playing in the background of one scene (I'm not obsessed, don't judge). I mention that my friend's reaction is mysterious because her annoyance with this happy sappy lovey-dovey story confuses me, considering her words after seeing The Hours with me were "Don't ever make me watch a movie like that again." Music & Lyrics is the polar opposite of The Hours. How do I win this game?

I digress. More bright side: We drank good wine then pilfered the secret stash of Halloween candy; I am momentarily going directly to bed, possibly without taking the two minutes to brush my teeth so I can down some Nyquil, and I might skip the Friends meeting (though I will remain quite friendly with our library nonetheless, I promise) to sleep until lunchtime.

You know what they say: Always look on the bright side of life...

to sleep, perchance to...just sleep, that's all i want

While my diehard PTA board weathers the storm of, well, actual weather along with the craziness that is our Picture Day company, I stay home with my sick child. Go to my list blog to read what I hope to do in the few hours I have before heading to teach. And then, I'm out the door as soon as my last student hits the sidewalk so I can come home to nap.

Happy Thursday - the weekend is almost here! There will be more sleeping...

barf-o-rama

Who knew my kid's vomitous misfortune would be a Godsend today? I mean, being awakened just after midnight by "Mo--bllugghh" is hardly grounds for celebration, especially when it's followed by hourly awakenings (less dramatic and messy, however, thanks to the old 'bowl in the bed' tactic). With each attempt to go back to sleep I pondered a different scenario for today, but kept coming back to 'just stay home' as my favorite. After the Friday night printing bonanza followed by Saturday's kid, garage sale, and auction duties (yes, garage sale shopping was a duty - it's spring! And I found a Banana Republic wool coat for a dollar! Look at all these exclamation points!!) plus post-function recap until 2 am, I was dog tired. As long as 'dog tired' means my eyelids weighed 20 lbs. and I couldn't complete a coherent sentence with more than four words.

So after my initial consternation at having to rise, rinse, repeat every 45 minutes in the dead of night, I began to realize this situation was perfect for a bad mom stretched taut with so much teaching & PTA and too little sleep & quality kid time. If we can define 'quality time' as sitting together watching endless hours of Veggie Tales & Disney movies (Mason watching/reciting, me surfing & blogging) and staying hydrated. I guess Paige has to hope for this to be a contagious illness and not food poisoning if she's looking forward to hanging with mom before Friday...And that means I had better make some actual lesson plans for this week in case the sub needs a sub again. Life is hard.

live from seatac, it's saturday night!

[Applause] [Cue flattering lighting]

Thanks, ladies & gentlemen, and welcome! I'm here at the state PTA convention having quite a grand time despite the fact that 1) I am frequently provoked into hooting about my excitement to be here, and 2) some nasty (and likely highly contagious - forgive me, fellow conventioneers) flu-like disease has infiltrated my body. I feel like I've been repeatedly body slammed by large, ruthless individuals, and my throat is swollen and raw. But I'm really having fun! I've got a good excuse not to hoot now, anyway.

Now, lest you've heard stories of last year's "Moms Gone Wild" convention trip (so totally untrue...I'm pretty sure...Nobody has video, right?), this is not a result of multiple martinis and late night dancing. Instead, it's a result of multiple martinis and late night chatting with a strange guy we met in the bar. He wasn't really a STRANGE GUY as in 'look for him on the evening news', just a lonely dude who asked to join us at our table because he could hear our entire conversation anyway. Although we were talking about childbirth, so maybe he really was a strange guy. Nah, he was a pleasant, hopeful fellow Coug with a sports barbershop in Wenatchee (if you find yourself needing a haircut in central Washington, stop by Holben's!). So, we all stayed up talking until my voice pretty much cut out - the hotel lounge version of a dropped call. After miming good evening/morning to him, we headed back to our room - the farthest one possible from the lobby (they must know I never exercise); I was asleep at 2:20 and leaped out of bed at 7:20 when breakfast was delivered. However, the eggs, bacon, and potatoes I had ordered the night before didn't seem quite as appetizing anymore. I called next door to my trusty Legislative Chair, proud member of the Clean Plate Club, and settled myself into a nice cup of tea and some orange juice. And a handful of stress tablets.

I like to think I was looking simply tired, maybe a little demure in my slow walking and lack of head movements, but I'm pretty sure I resembled a well-dressed zombie most of the day. By the time I got through my last class at 3:15, my head was throbbing. I handed off my voting credential to our Treasurer and shuffled back to the room, in Outer Mongolia, for a three-hour nap. When my fellow board members returned, neither of them bothered to let me know mascara was smeared across my temple. That, along with the growing heat rash from sleeping under a down comforter fully clothed combined to make me look positively plague-ridden. But I am our PTA President-elect, and as God is my witness this is not going to lick me! I gamely rose to iron my sweater, shave my legs, and clean that mascara off my face so we could attend the banquet.

Although I have learned much valuable information that will help me wisely lead my people, the most thrilling part of the weekend has been running into readers of my blog. I have to give a virtual shout-out to my biggest fan-who's-not-obligated-by-blood-or-friendship-to-love-me, Karolyn Crabtree. She's the state PTA Finance Officer and instructor who was positively gleeful as she greeted me and said, "I'm so glad you're here! I LOVE reading your blog! It's like having a celebrity in my class!" (I'll try to send you some chocolate, Karolyn, after I'm decontaminated). She totally rocks. And so does her adorable son. He was quite gracious when I said, after asking what grade he was in, "You're taller than most of the 8th grade students I have!" What kind of comment is that? I might as well have pinched his cheeks and squealed about how big he was getting. But to his immense credit, he did not roll his eyes - at least not in front of me, and that's pretty remarkable for a teenager.

Alright, it's approaching 11pm and although I really want to stay out a bit longer since I went to the trouble of ironing this damn sweater, I should get in bed. I have a Parliamentary Procedure class bright & early; I know you're jealous, don't try to hide it. But really I am excited about it (not enough to hoot, however; that hurts my head) because the instructor is Rollie Cox, the state PTA's official Parliamentarian (seriously!) and he is a true delight. His manner is sophisticated yet droll, a cross between Basil Rathbone and John Cleese.

Thanks for reading tonight. Hope you've enjoyed this brief glimpse into the often glamorous, sometimes sordid world of PTA conventions. Tune in next time for tales of betrayal and drunken smackdowns between warring local units. You think I'm joking...

[Applause] [Fade out]