Yesterday I showed the results of an encounter in the back yard and suggested it was better to be the hawk than the mourning dove.
Right now I’m the mourning dove.
I hate being sick.
I hate how you’re fine one day, then you’ve got a little cough, then sniffles, and twenty-four hours later you’re hacking up a lung, running a fever of 101° and change and you feel like…the mourning dove.
It’s boring. Aside from the physical discomfort, if there are things you have to do and you’re not quite ready for the ICU then you have to soldier through those things and the rest of the time just lie about, not able to really get to sleep, not able to really wake up, hungry but not feeling like eating anything, forcing yourself to stay hydrated but not able to drink anything you like (such as the gift from the gods, Diet Coke) so everything is just BLAAAAAHHHHH!
And while I have plenty of sick time to take (I know that some don’t have that luxury) and some great staff to cover while I’m out (again, a luxury many don’t have), it still means that I’ll be behind and up to my ass in alligators when I got back to the office.
I hate being sick!