I close my eyes, but I am not tired. Instead, I am weary. I ache. I think I have a temperature… I lay here, sweaty, weakened… useless. And all the more guilty for it. The medic spoke to the doctor, and gave me drugs in a little plastic baggie. “Yes, it’s going around. I had three patients just yesterday, and we were chock full all last week. Come back if it gets any worse.” At first his chipper tone sounds so artificial, but then I remember the patients he must deal with who don’t have the flu. The ones they carry in.

And so I lay here. I haven’t eaten since the day before yesterday, but at least the diarrhea has stopped. Tomorrow I will go to work.