I’d like some whine with my cheese

{Warning: This is  going to be a very tired, achy grad student’s rant}

I am not a slacker.

In my entire grad school career, which is long than I care to admit, I have taken *one* sick day.

One.

I’ve showed up to the lab exhausted, sniffling, and quite arguably contagious. I religiously get my flu shot to prevent anything more pesky than the common cold. I generally “suck it up” and power through my 50 hour weeks in the name of science, good patient care, and responsibility.

And today, I finally allowed my brain to give my body the permission to take a knee.

Instead of bounding out of bed at 7 am, I stayed in bed for *gasp* an extra hour. I ate pumpkin bread for breakfast and allowed myself to wake up with the aid of 5 cups of coffee. I allowed myself to feel how I feel: miserable, stuffy, achy, and just plain ‘ole *overworked*.

And, knowing that I had no classes or research responsibilities to attend to this morning, I let myself realize that I really, truly needed a sick day. But not even an entire sick day, mind you. A semi-sick day…a day in which I’d arrive at school at 1 pm instead of noon and still attend to all of my afternoon responsibilities.

So, being a big girl, I called the girl coordinating my afternoon responsibilities letting her know of my plan change.

And, instead of accepting that I was attempting to do the right thing while also allowing myself some time to rest, she essentially blew me off. Accused me of “faking” my “illness” and “shirking my responsibilities” because I am “lazy”.

Which, of course, sent me into a fit of tears. For a good ten minutes. I typically do a good job of being me and overall not giving a crap what other people think about me. But the idea that someone would think that I don’t work hard and would make an excuse to come in an *hour* late just got me at the core.

For a millisecond, I thought about calling her back and saying I’d come in at noon anyways.

For a millisecond.

Then I realized that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was still going to do what I had told her I would do, only with a slightly later time of arrival. That even if she thought all of those things about me, she could have had an *ounce of tact* and simply said, “Ok, thank you for letting me know”.

That’s what an adult would do.

{End rant}

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