Sam left town on Friday for a conference. He left me with two dogs, a basket full of clean laundry, a dishwasher full of clean dishes, and a cold. The laundry and dishes have been put away; the cold is thriving.
Sneeze. Sniff. Cough.
Tomorrow I have patients scheduled from 8:30-3:30, ending a half-hour early because I have a meeting at 6:00. Eve is going home from school with a friend and a babysitter is picking her up there at 6:00. The plan was for me to get home by 5:00, let the dogs out, feed them and take them out, and then go to my meeting (Growler and WackoDog are not the sorts who can be managed by the babysitter or the kid).
I don't think I'll be up to 7 hours of patients and all the associated paperwork, phone calls and office management. On the other hand, right now my next available follow-up appointment is February 10th; if I cancel 20 patients I have no other time to see them.
Sneeze. Sniffle. Sigh.
I have told at least four people in the past week (Sam was the first) that they have been dragging their bodies around behind their heads, and working when they should be home. I feel guilty about even considering that I should take my own advice. (No, he didn't).
Just thinking about this is making me anxious. I need a plan, or at least an option, to manage the anxiety. It's possible I'll feel better in the morning; it's also possible I'll wake up without a voice. So my Plan B is to cancel my patients tomorrow and open up office hours on Thursday evening and Friday afternoon. Assuming, of course, I feel better by then. If I don't, this whole house of cards will come crashing down on my already-aching head.
Sniffle. Sneeze. Sob.