You know what my worst part about being sick is?
No, not the blowing of the nose. That is definitely the second worst. (I will admit to an unusual issue with nose blowing, but we can cover that in another post.)
Not the sleeping crappy, the tired eyes, the stuffy-ness. Not even the pounding headaches and sneezing and sick belly stuff.
My ultimate worst part of being sick is wondering who the hell infected me. Seriously. It's all consuming. I can't stand the thought of the disgusting little sick germ that someone gave me. Did I touch the escalator railing? Did someone sneeze in my eye? Did someone cough on my phone? Did I inadvertently touch germy mucous???!
I drive myself crazy thinking about it.
It's definitely a character flaw. I am so not a Howie Mandell/Michael Jackson type of germaphobe, but I definitely could see myself slowly approaching that level.
My sister Jenney does not appreciate this about me. She thinks people worry too much about that crap. But she is the person that has cheese sticks and Go-gurt in her refrigerator 2 months after their expiration date. She is the one who eats meaty pizza that was left out overnight. She is the one who does not use her sleeve as a bacteria shield when opening or closing a public bathroom door! She thinks a few miscellaneous germs are no big deal.
And she's a nurse! A really smart nurse even.
I can't help it. I was shocked that I didn't get sick after Thanksgiving because I spent five days with a niece who hacked and sneezed vile bodily fluids all over the house. For five days. We all know that I am a weirdo, but the thought of phlegm being spewed everywhere really makes my stomach turn. Really.
I am positive someone kissed me with germy spit in their mouth recently. I am anxiously waiting for that tell-tale tickle in the back of my throat to start...
Two weeks before Christmas! Grr.