I went home sick yesterday.
To clarify — I went home in excruciating, menstruation-impending pain.
Due to my school’s block scheduling, it was a day on which my planning period came on the last time block. The pain had been getting worse all day. I was supposed to have a meeting with my team teachers, but other than that, my lessons were planned through this unit. I did not, strictly speaking, have nothing to do, but in the real world of priorities — is was becoming progressively easier to prioritize this pain over the stuff that would not explode if I tried to handle it by email and/or let it sit for one more day.
So I got the formalities in order, let my coworkers know I was not going to be at the meeting due to chronic pain acting up, and went home.
Today — Well, today is my day of the high maintenance classes. I love them dearly, but — no, not but — and that is why I realized that to leave them either on their own for the next step of their project or with a sub-friendly (though less block schedule friendly) activity with a teacher who didn’t know them would interrupt their learning and do a disservice to everyone involved. Plus — not gonna lie — sub plans are more work than is actually being gone.
So I went in.
Two of my three teammates asked upon seeing me, “So I guess you must be feeling better?” Both framed in supposition of an affirmative answer.
Which, no. I’m not. Only I also don’t have the spoons to explain — at least not in the public, time-constrained venue of the hallway during passing period — that how I react to and manage — and yes, plan for — my chronic condition is about a lot more than just “feeling better.”
As an example, this time — I saw and seized a narrow window to carry over one spoon into the next day. Which has far less to do with helping me to feel “better” and far more to do with giving me the reserves to present that “better” face when I’m not.
