I’ve only been an adult for about, I don’t know, four years now? Overall, it’s everything I dreamed it to be. You get to ignore people and no one calls you out for being disrespectful. You get to lie and no one suggests you should always tell the truth. You get to buy whole gallons of ice cream and not only serve yourself but serve yourself as much as you want! I’m loving it.
There are a few drawbacks I have found, though. The phrase “you’re acting like a child” is an insult now, because, as we all know, children are fucking idiots. Plus, you won’t ever get summers off again unless you’re a teacher. Which, if you are a teacher, we all know your ass is working at Starbucks just to make it to August. Still, the greatest evil of being an adult is how cruel the world becomes when you’re sick.
Remember being sick as a kid? Sure, it was terrifying because time moved slower and you actually thought you were going to suffer from strep throat for the rest of your life. Mostly, though, it was glorious. Here are a few things that totally suck buttholes about being sick as an adult.
You still have to work, dummy
As soon as I learned the phrase “highly contagious” I thought I had hit the missing school jackpot. My mom would let us stay home from school for nearly anything, but after a second of tending to our every need, she would quickly convince us we were ready to get back on that bus. Then I found out that even when you feel better those germs are still alive and kicking. Being an upstanding member of the PTA, there was no way my mother was going to take the blame for infecting the whole second grade class with the latest virus, so we stayed home those extra days. Just in case.
Grownups don’t have it quite so easy. Sure, people shout shit like, “Stay home! Don’t get us all sick!” Really, though, they’re saying, “You lying sack of shit. This pile of work isn’t going to do itself.” Only once did I make the mistake of explaining to an infuriated client that I couldn’t call her back because I was vomiting out of both ends of my body the day before. She looked me square in the eye and said, “Am I supposed to care?” No, ma’am, you’re not. The world is a cruel, nasty place, and between puking sessions I should have taken a minute to answer your pressing question about something that anyone else in my office could have easily answered for you.
Take care of yourself, asshole
The absolute best part about being sick as a kid was my mom taking care of me. She went above and beyond. It was almost like I was easier to love when I was sick, but let’s not dive too deep into my mostly privileged — but slightly bizarre — childhood and just say that I was very well taken care of. She let me sleep in her bed, brought me all kinds of foods and drinks, and even took the time to find the perfect thing to watch on TV. Like I always tell her now when I go home, “the service here is impeccable.”
Now, I honestly roll my eyes when I see people post about being sick on Facebook. It’s like my heart turned into a hard turd of shame as soon as I realized that when you grow up, nobody wants to take care of you when you’re sick. Like, what do you want from me, girl? Am I supposed to like this status and then magically a bowl of soup will appear on your nightstand?
Full disclosure, though: I totally posted a picture of my dog sleeping with me when I was sick last week and referred to her as my “nurse.” If you can’t beat them, degrade yourself to their level.
That will be $1 million, please
Remember when as soon as you got a prescription from the doctor your parents went straight to the pharmacy to fill it? “No cost too great for my baby girl,” aka “give me every drug you have to make this child shut the fuck up.” I probably consumed enough bubble gum-flavored liquid antibiotics to make a Monsanto scientist shiver in fear. The pill, syrups, shots, and drops rained down on me like 20-dollar bills from a rapper’s hand in a music video.
Recently, I finished off the codeine cough syrup I had been hoarding for about three years. I even filled the empty bottle with some water and shook it to get the last drops. In my naive, embarrassingly ignorant mind, I really thought that medical care and medicine would always be in my budget. This includes the $900 worth of allergy tests I got last year because I trusted the receptionist who told me “I’m, like, sure your insurance will totally cover it.” The tests were inconclusive and the receptionist was only responsible for scheduling appointments, Caitlin, not an expert in medical coding.
You’ll feel better tomorrow, maybe
Children can literally break a bone out of their skin and be ready ride their bike to Arby’s the next day. Those freakish little immune systems don’t give a fuck about recovery periods. I work with kids, and honestly, some of them seem to have more energy after throwing up their entire lunch. Like, those partially digested hot Cheetos and ham sandwich were what was holding them back from their full potential. When I was a kid. being sick on a Wednesday by no means outlawed me cheering at the fourth-grade football game on Saturday in Sapulpa. Sure, I had a full body rash and fever of 102 degrees a few days ago, but I feel alive today, damn it!
After a week of still wanting to go to sleep at 6 p.m. every night the last time I was sick, I figured I must have some low-grade bird flu or something. But no, it’s just a cold and my ancient, 20-something-year-old body needing more time to get things back in top form. I told my co-worker I was still feeling crappy from the cough I had over two weeks ago and she replied, “Yeah, took me two months to get over mine.” Then I slapped my hands to my face and screamed while the scene behind me turned into a black, whirling vortex of time and space.
