Sick days

I am very lucky.  When I get a freakish stomach ick that comes on overnight and causes me to feel tremendous gastrointestinal discomfort and bone-deep chills, I know several things:

1) I can get warmer.  I have heat.  I have a roof.  I have 8 million blankets that I can crawl under.  I can get warmer.

2) There is medicine or something I will be able to take to either relieve the symptoms or take away whatever obnoxious germ has decided to invade my body.

3) If I get up in the morning, I will be able to send a message to Mr. Bossman and let him know that I am sick and asking to take a day off.  He will not only tell me to take the day off but insist upon it.  He will then cover any necessary meetings.  Additionally, I know that if I came into the office feeling the way I feel right now and looking like I hadn't slept all night because an alien baby was clawing its way out my stomach, that he would insist that I go home and take care of myself.

4) While home, I have access to the internet and a computer, so that I can take care of anything pressing and not feel as though I am getting super behind.

I am a very lucky woman. The above four items is what privilege looks like.  I am grateful for what I have because there are many women and men that don't get to take sick days.  Or if they do, they aren't paid for them.  They don't get to take care of themselves and feel supported in doing so.  I am very lucky, indeed.