(Untitled)

I think I have a slight cold. I've got a sniffle and I woke up drenched in sweat, and it's occurring to me how I don't get slightly sick, I either get really sick, bed-ridden sick, or I'm fine, and now I'm thinking about how I used being sick, often falsely, as a way of getting out of things, through childhood into adulthood, and to do so, I had to be really sick. Also, my parents never got slightly sick--they needed to either be bed-ridden or they were fine. My father, who I now know had a burning desire to not be around us, would famously go to work slightly sick, and it was held up as a sign of his great work ethic, though now that I think of it, it seems pretty reckless and selfish for a surgeon to go to work sick.