I will never hear the Australian term, “Sickie” – referring to someone who is ill, without a slight smirk. Sickie. Really? And you want me to take you seriously!?
That doesn’t exclude me from using the term, or typing it anyway. Because that’s what I was today, a full-on sickie. Made the mistake of thinking no appetite and a headache over breakfast would just take care of itself. Or not.
After making several trips to the restroom to lie down on the bench we keep there, and losing my mini-breakfast around 10:30, I finally told my boss I thought I’d be leaving soon. She told me to leave immediately, which I did…genuinely wishing I looked as sick as I felt, to justify wimping out early.
Getting home, of course, involved a motorbike, two trains and finally asking my host to pick me up at the last stop. Thirty-five more minutes in the back of pick-up truck (even if it DOES have seats) was simply not happening. Unfortunately, my common sense ended there and I made the mistake of agreeing to enter a grocery store to pick up some sickie supplies. There are about four main grocery store brands here, and each is set up just like a typical Western supermarket, something like Kroger or Meijer. However. The chaos that is enclosed within those walls, the overwhelming smells and noise of an Asian grocery store are so dissimilar to my quiet Kroger, I usually avoid them.
Of course, that wasn’t what I remembered today. Thus, I ended my little trip for limes and sprite with my head on the inside of a trashcan, wondering if I’d ever eat again.
Home and resting the rest of the day, with the AC on even during daylight hours, I have high hopes for a recovery. All I want now is my mother.