I’m not sure why it is so hard for me to be sick but I think I can probably blame my father.

Whenever I felt sick when I was little my dad would ask me if I REALLY felt like I needed to stay home from school. Obviously that was the best part of being sick but I always second guessed myself asking myself if I was just wanting a break from life and wasn’t really sick. My dad somehow introduced the notion that being sick was at least in part a decision. That messed me up.

As an adult, I’ve really enjoyed good health. Even when working in the public schools, I would rally through cold viruses and just keep going. My glands in my neck are the warning sirens that something is coming. Often, I can push through a cold or sore throat. Really the only thing that sidelines me is a fever or a stomach bug.

This week, the night before I was to take Paul to Paris for a whirlwind day, I couldn’t sleep because of a sore throat and swollen glands. I armed myself with a combination of Tylenol and Advil and just decided to pretend it wasn’t happening. This worked okay until about 4 pm when I went back to the hotel and just gave up. After returning home the next day on the train, I took to my bed. Was I sick? Was it in my head? Was I just overtired and let down with the departure of my guests?

I will admit, I tried to decide not to be sick. I climbed on the Peloton and rode it. I walked the dog. I took a few naps and didn’t cook meals but I struggled to say I was sick. Ironically, at certain points I felt so much fatigue I wondered if I had Covid but still I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t decide. Was I sick or just weak?

The other reason I can blame my father is that he was the sickest person I have ever known, yet he often denied his illness and somehow made it a reality. He really embodied mind over matter. I can remember looking out my window from the 4th floor at Parker Hall and watching him stubbornly walk across campus to his office with less than 20% heart function. How could I acknowledge a sore throat in the face of that?

In my 50th year, I will add being sick to my list of things to get comfortable with. It really is silly that I struggle to admit weakness and take rest. I guess if my dad were still around and asked me if I REALLY felt like I needed to stay home, I would say, “I don’t know but I think I’m going to try it anyway.”