I was fortunate enough to get sick this weekend.
Ha… that sounds a bit funny doesn’t it? Like I was happy I got sick. No way.
I am fortunate that I came down with the crappiest cold EVER sometime between the time I went to bed Friday night and when I woke up Saturday morning…and NOT during the week. This allowed me to get much needed rest. (After I canceled every single fun plan I had… ) And even with two entire days Saturday and Sunday, I still had to make the dreaded call on Monday morning to my Japanese supervisor and communicate in horrible Japanese (that was barely audible ANYWAY) that I felt like poop and would not be going to my elementary school visit. This partially made me happy… since the lesson I had planned to do was not a very good one. But there was a moment, just before I called, that I felt as nervous as Satan on Judgement Day… It is a pretty intimidating thing for me to call in to work sick in America… let alone Japan where I am trying to present the most “perfect hardworking American” possible, to the Japanese professionals. In Japan, people go to work, even if they are an inch from death. Children come to school with fevers! And I suppose it is ok, as long as they are still able to read and write without throwing up too much on their books and papers. CRAZY.
But here I am, a lazy American. And I had to make the call. It turned out to be ok. My supervisor was VERY understanding. She even came over to my house and brought me an assortment of fruit, ice cream, and water. WOW. I wish I had a boss do that for me in the U.S. I was babied… I really was. She made sure I didn’t have a fever (by asking me in Japanese that I didn’t understand… but gestures helped me decipher) and let me know that if I needed to go to the doctor to give her a call. ( Also gesture deciphering.) So I stayed in bed, on a work day, in JAPAN and talked to my ever patient boyfriend… ALL day! It was like he was there with me, making me drink water and juice. Pretty great.
But you know you are an adult, when you get sick and you have to get your own juice and crackers.
You also know you are an adult when you have no more clean silverware or underwear and are forced to wash clothes and dishes… when you finally get a little bit of energy and are able to do so without passing out. GAH.
Who said growing up was fun?? BLAH.
Hanging in there…a long nap anticipated upon my return to my bacteria infested apartment. Yeah… and they don’t have Lysol here….