Vacation days and sick days
Sometime last Tuesday afternoon -- in the air between Seattle and Detroit -- my body started to ache. By the time I boarded a late-night flight to Harrisburg, I felt as banged up as my luggage.
Travel, a time difference, a change of climate and seasons -- I attributed my malaise to all of the above and showed up at work Wednesday feeling not-so-hot.
You see, calling in sick when you come back from vacation isn't really an option. Bosses tend to think you're trying to extend your time off. You're so behind in your work that you can't afford to lose another day of productivity.
Thursday, I felt even worse, but went to work anyway. I had a story to finish. This time, my body didn't let me stay. While reporting a story downtown, my mouth dried up, my stomach turned over and my head started to feel like it might explode at any moment.
I called my doctor -- and even though the first available appointment wasn't for two hours -- I carefully drove north on I-83, hoping my brain would remain clear enough to get me there safely. After mumbling my name and situation to the receptionist, I crashed on the waiting room couch, fighting alternating waves of chills and sweating.
If I went home, I might not make it out again in time for my appointment.
I grimaced each time a new patient walked through the door, looked at me with pity and puzzlement and took a seat as far away as possible. I felt embarrassed, lying there in my work clothes, curled into a ball, trying to make my head stop pounding and my muscles stop aching.
The diagnosis? Mystery virus that caused a 103-degree temperature. The prescription? Antibiotics, flu meds that make you drowsy, lots of fluids and rest. On my drive home, I left a garbled message for my editor to let her know what was going on -- in case I fell asleep and didn't wake up in time to call in sick the next day.
Friday afternoon, when I emerged from my aching coma into the land of the living and crawled to my computer to see what I was missing at work, I discovered that my editor didn't realize I was out sick. Waves of guilt washed over me.
Here I was, just back from three days of vacation, having taken my second sick day in two weeks, and way behind on all of my work. And on top of feeling physically horrible, I now felt like a horrible employee. A slacker. An unproductive member of staff.
It reminded me of high school and college, when I'd drag myself to classes no matter what because I feared a sick day would set me too far behind in my work or keep me from hearing essential information I'd need on an upcoming exam. I felt terrible when I thought about how much tuition I was paying for that missed class.
On more than one occasion, my inability to acknowledge and take care of myself on days I was not feeling well led to holiday breaks spent nursing bronchitis or some similar ailment.
Why is it, that while the rest of America is known for letting vacation days go unused, I feel no guilt when scheduling those planned absences from work. Yet my sick days accumulate, even when I'm feeling under the weather.
Does anyone else struggle with this?
nicki · April 16, 2008 4:23 PM
Sometimes I do, yes. But someone once told me that your co-workers and boss appreciate when you stay home because it means you are keeping your sickness away from them.
If you call in sick once a month on Fridays, I think you would have cause to worry, but if you are really sick, there is nothing you can do about it.
Jamie Nicole · April 18, 2008 9:22 PM
When you're feeling under the weather, it's best to stay home. Showing up at work while sick says nothing other than "hey, I dont want to get fired." You're not focused on your work, you're focused on how lousy you feel, and your "productivity" shows it. Plus, you expose all your co-workers that you call friends to this nasty little virus, then the whole building is sick. Stay home!! It's precisely the reason why employers offer "sick days."