Sick, again

So I am sick again. This time it is some cold bug or something that is wiping out everyone in town (and work). Nice change from my stomach problems.

I ended up calling in sick for work. Sure, I might have made it to work, maybe even a few hours (doubtfully I might have made the whole shift) but I would have ended up in worse shape than I was last night, or sicker longer.

Well, when I phoned in, the manager on decided to print out 1) I was the 4th to call in and 2) I have missed 5 days in 7 weeks.

This news set me off into a spiral; guilt, fear, more guilt, and a dash of anxiety. Guilt because of money and missing work, fear of losing my job (it is union, valid sickness, but still). 

Now I can’t sleep, all I can think of is how my health problems are now not just ruining my life, but threatening my job.

Yes. I have missed a lot of work. I HATE it. But 2 (3??) Of those days were because of my finger. Hell, doc wanted me to take a minimum of 2 weeks (ideally 2 MONTHS) off and I  took 2 DAYS. And did not miss any more work because of it. Even when I have days were it goes numb, or feels broken, or swells and hurts so bad I want to cut it off, I don’t miss work.

But, my stomach problems … How can i work when I feel like an alien is inside me trying to cut it’s way out with a rusty steak knife? 

Now this? Sure. Yes. I could theoretically work. But I have had only maybe 4 hours of sleep (affects thought process), my headaches and is stuffed up (again, no thought), my neck cramps up and feels “stuck”, my back is sore, and while my throat isn’t sore, it is dried out and I randomly lose my voice. HOW is that something I should feel guilty about calling in sick for?
But I do. I feel like a loser, a failure, a subhuman piece of shit.

Fuck that manager. 

I want sleep, I want health. Must be nice not getting sick, ever. 

I want to die. 

Right now, for real, I wish my health would just kill me. That’d show him why I called in sick.

But I don’t want to die. I want to be healthy. I want to never have to miss work. I want to be the one that can be relied on (upon?)

Aaaaaaand, guilt.

Fuck life.

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This entry was posted in Anxiety, Depression, Health and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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