Attempt confirmed

...Yep, my job really is trying to kill me. Today marked 6 DAYS of no voice. I made it first period, second, then lunch hit and that's when the History and Band teachers gave me the best advice: "It's not like they're not going to graduate if you go home."

Then I almost passed out- cold sweats- seriously something's wrong - why haven't I kicked this after two weeks panic.....

7th was so kind to me. They listened. They cared. They complimented me on my new shirt and listened to my story of how Q rubbed vicks on my feet at 4 am.

Then my modern day Savior, Mr. Langston the Math teacher, offered to teach my last class and I escaped. Somehow I managed to pull a substitute lesson, prep for Langston, grab my grading, and teach my rowdiest class all in the very hour death came knocking on my immunity door.

Two hour visit to doctor's later:

Not Swine (thank heaven) but something bad and weird. Flu/Colds don't last this long. Bloodwork results Friday- Diagnosis unresolved, cause professionally calculated:

HIGH JOB STRESS

At least this doctor gets it. My first year I saw a guy for an antibiotic and it took severe convincing for him to give me one. He said he'd much rather I just cut the stress out of my life. I laughed at him and replied, "I'm a first-year teacher, I'll take that antibiotic- and don't be shy about the dosage."

Today I had a woman PA who, upon divulge of my chosen (lol) career, simply confirmed, "Well that's why you're sick. You couldn't pay me enough to teach middle school."

"It get's worse," I responded, "I teach Language Arts,"

To which she promptly wrote out a prescription for an extra day of 500 milligrams. Finally- someone who gets it. ...And I didn't even have a copay!