To be considered legitimately sick enough to miss school required a verifiable symptom.
Mumps, measles, chicken pox all passed muster. Vomiting - which in my mother's eyes could be easily enough self induced - did not. Fevers were highly suspect and had better be 101 or better. Headaches were seen as the worst form of malingering, stomach ailments were in second place, and short of a broken or fractured bone or free flowing arterial bleeding, all pain was instantly dismissed as "in your head". A cold - no matter it's severity - was a nuisance to be treated with two aspirin and a box of kleenex and she wrote off each and every so called flu as a medical hoax designed to put money in the pockets of over eager doctors selling useless flu shots. A child at home sick was an inconvenience to her - it meant she would have to make dry toast and overdone eggs served with lukewarm apple juice and trudge a tray upstairs to the sick room morning, night and noon, a form of pampering that was clearly undeserved and might set a dangerous precedent. I thought of this yesterday morning as the doctor administered a shot to my hip and gave me instructions for lots of water and a couple of days rest. The cold was in it's very early stages - congestion, coughing, and a scratchy throat - and we were jump starting treatment in hopes of avoiding the worst. Not surprisingly, it worked.
My mother's regimen left some lasting effects though. I still believe that there are miles between "sick" and "too sick to work". I suspect no one will believe me if I say I have a headache or am nauseous. I still want to present verifiable symptoms - a wound, a raging fever, a cast. More distressing, I find myself looking for it in others, more or less expecting that a claim of illness is probably a cover story and that if you can't see it, it's not really there.
It's an unreasonable outlook, I know, cynical, suspicious, and uncharitable, just as my mother intended.
Mumps, measles, chicken pox all passed muster. Vomiting - which in my mother's eyes could be easily enough self induced - did not. Fevers were highly suspect and had better be 101 or better. Headaches were seen as the worst form of malingering, stomach ailments were in second place, and short of a broken or fractured bone or free flowing arterial bleeding, all pain was instantly dismissed as "in your head". A cold - no matter it's severity - was a nuisance to be treated with two aspirin and a box of kleenex and she wrote off each and every so called flu as a medical hoax designed to put money in the pockets of over eager doctors selling useless flu shots. A child at home sick was an inconvenience to her - it meant she would have to make dry toast and overdone eggs served with lukewarm apple juice and trudge a tray upstairs to the sick room morning, night and noon, a form of pampering that was clearly undeserved and might set a dangerous precedent. I thought of this yesterday morning as the doctor administered a shot to my hip and gave me instructions for lots of water and a couple of days rest. The cold was in it's very early stages - congestion, coughing, and a scratchy throat - and we were jump starting treatment in hopes of avoiding the worst. Not surprisingly, it worked.
My mother's regimen left some lasting effects though. I still believe that there are miles between "sick" and "too sick to work". I suspect no one will believe me if I say I have a headache or am nauseous. I still want to present verifiable symptoms - a wound, a raging fever, a cast. More distressing, I find myself looking for it in others, more or less expecting that a claim of illness is probably a cover story and that if you can't see it, it's not really there.
It's an unreasonable outlook, I know, cynical, suspicious, and uncharitable, just as my mother intended.
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