This past weekend, I came down with a vicious cold. And I don’t just mean you’re usual run-of-the-mill cold either. I’m talking swine flu-like symptoms cold . . . or what I would imagine having the swine flu would be like if I ever had it or knew anyone who did. My nose was like a leaky faucet and I couldn’t breathe through it, making me sound more Fran Drescher-like than I normally do. I was, and still am a little, coughing like am emphysema patient, my body was aching all over and I had hot and cold flashes like a woman going through menopause. It was not a pretty sight, and it felt even worse than it looked. Instead of attempting to be productive, I was forced to spend my entire weekend in bed. Literally, in bed. In fact, I never stepped foot outside of my apartment all weekend.

Being the dedicated worker than I am, I planned to go into work on Monday. I had only taken a total of one sick day the entire year, but I was afraid to take No. 2. Sure, my colleagues call out sick all the time. Hell, my boss takes a sick day and stays home if he stubs his toe, but I was afraid to do it. Call me paranoid (because I am), but I thought that my bosses would think that I was lying and fire me the day I returned to work.

Instead, I woke up Monday morning still feeling quite shiteous, but I decided to get up, shower and go through my usual morning routine. About halfway through my shower, as I was hacking up my left lung, it became clear that work was not in my future. I spent the rest of the shower crafting an e-mail in my head to my colleagues about why I couldn’t come in today - the final product that was sent included details of sickness (for authenticity) and apologies for inconveniencing everyone. I also (half-heartedly) offered to work on the one project that one of my superiors sent to me over the weekend (yes, the weekend - there is no rest for a PR professional). After I hit send, I made an attempt to go back to sleep for another 2 hours, but my coughing kept me awake, and scared away little Titan and Zeus.

At 9 a.m., with my good friends Regis & Kelly on in the background (well, to be accurate, Reg was out and Kelly’s hot hubby Mark Consuelos was co-hosting), I checked my e-mail, expecting numerous sympathy e-mails and hoping someone would tell me not to worry about working on that one project and just concentrate on feeling better. Instead, I received one e-mail of sympathy and additional directions on my assignment. At the end of the day, I had wound up working a half-day and got no rest whatsoever because I kept monitoring my blackberry, afraid that the minute I dozed off, someone would try to e-mail me with an urgent request. But at least I got to stay home, right?

Looking back with a semi-clear head, I realize that this is absolutely ridiculous. When did it become a crime to take an actual sick-day in order to get better? There is an entire company of people available to cover for me. I know I’m amazing and all, but it doesn’t take a genius to do what I do. I should have taken a stand and  said I was taking a sick day, shutting off my phone and blackberry and telling everyone I would see them the next day - if I felt up to it. And it’s not just me who acts this way, because I know plenty of others who act the same way when it comes to being sick and going to work. In fact, Boyfriend was telling me that one of his co-workers came into work the other day with a 103 degree fever because she was afraid to call out. And I bet you’ve done it too. It’s madness I tell you; MADNESS!

HR is always preaching to its employees that they should stay home and not come in and infect the rest of the office if they are sick, especially during flu season, and I think it’s about time we start following their suggestion. America is not (yet) a third-world-country, so people should not be expected spend every minute of their lives working. Call me crazy (because I am), but I’m a firm-believer that a person’s health and general well-being should come before a job.

Thoughts??