Monday, September 4, 2006

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

In order to attend to my graduate studies, I had to give up my free days from work. The boss wouldn't allow me to render undertime service during my shift, so I had to exchange day-offs with a colleague and sacrifice whatever vacant time I have for academics.

However, I understand that the body would not take such stress from the combined load of school and work seven days a week. In order to give myself a little break, I take leaves at work at least once in 15 days so that the management would not notice my subtle irregularities.

For the past 2 months, this was my routine.
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I was confident that my reinforced frame would hold on to such repetitive and non-stop work-school schedule. I thought that my gym workout would enhance my immune system so that even though the weather would show eccentricities from time to time, virus would not get into my system.

In fact, as if mocking nature herself, all the absences I filed for the last two months were mostly sick leaves - which I spend in sleeping, extra-curricular engagements or doing academic work for school. Since many of my colleagues do the same thing (others even doing worse), I easily get away with my "I am sick" SMS text early in the morning.

Like the boy who cried wolf, I kept on using the same excuse every other week believing that my TL would buy it. And she surely does everytime, despite her occassional show of hesitation when my absences show small intervals from one another, or when it falls on a sunday morning.

However, I forgot that people easily accept reasons because they don't feel someone's body and mind complain when things get too much; They're not the one who senses breakdowns in the immune system once sweat, heat and cold mix to weaken the lungs and throat of a person.

When I woke up this morning, I immediately felt that my body is not in a good condition. I tried to get up, only to grab any flat surface my hand could reach just to stand up. After a few short breaths, I felt my lungs and throat itching. It is as if some naughty pussycat dumped a big sticky furball inside my chest while I'm sleeping. As I walked towards the FX terminal, I felt something odd about the weather; it was a little too cold for a September morning.

And then I started coughing - gently and subtle at first, but as the day progresses, it became more frequent and more painful in the throat.

While my body stayed weak and sore even though I'm about to go back to bed and sleep once more.

It seems like stress has finally taken its toll on my body.

Unfortanely, I cried wolf too many times already, not even the janitor who cleans my station every morning would believe that I'm sick for real.

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