Please excuse I.F....

Will someone please tell me when staying home sick became a bad thing? I remember what a blast it was as a grade-school student. At the slightest cough or sniffle my mom would swing into action. Extra pillows, some Vicks Vapor-Rub, lime Jello, and free refills on the Canada Dry. My father, who normally detested my predilection of all things science-fiction, would even stop at the B & B Smokeshop and buy me some comic books. The big softie. I really hit the jackpot when my older sister had to babysit -- I could always wait for her to go down to the basement to smoke (a big no-no in our household) and then sneak into the living room and whittle away the day watching TV. The only loose end to tie up came the next day and it easy: handing my teacher the note from my mom that said, "Please excuse Ian for being ill."

Contrast that Nirvana with the adult sick day. The day begins at 8 am by calling in to the office. I dread this part. I was raised in a strict Pentecostal church until I was eighteen, which causes me TO FEEL GUILTY ABOUT LYING EVEN WHEN I'M TELLING THE TRUTH. Then people want to know from which meetings I will be absent. And everyone knows that I'm only a phone call away. In fact, dozens of coworkers with whom I've never spoken suddenly call me up to "touch base" about some "project" so I can be "in the loop." It is now 8:03.

Coming down with Scarlet Fever seemed like a perfectly reasonable trade-off for getting some time off at Pleasant Township Elementary School. It was "me time." I believe Steven Covey would classify it as "sharpening the ax." All I think about now are the things I need to accomplish when I get back to my office. (I actually dreamt I was in a budget meeting as I dozed in bed this afternoon. No kidding.)

And don't even get me started about the lack of Jello. You know who gets to dote on ol' I.F. as an adult? That's right, the guy looking back at him through the mirror. No mommy or daddy appearing on the horizon to get me to the doctor, so I might as well lay in bed and die. Not that I'm pouting, you understand...

The social interaction of being a sick adult is a bust. But the physiological factors aren't gravy either. I had all the "biggies" as a kid: the above-mentioned Scarlet Fever, Chicken Pox, Strep Throat, Influenza, and everyone's favorite, Diarrhea. But no matter how high my temperature, no matter how achey or painy, no matter what part of my body was expelling fluid, I can't ever recall feeling miserable as a child. My pet theory is that my elementary school body must have been so "showroom fresh" that it even felt good to barf.

P.S. One more sick story before I pass. One time when I was sick with a sore throat, my teenage sister insisted that it must be mono. When I got back to school a few days later, I got mixed up and told my third-grade teacher I was out with a venereal disease!