BURNING KNOT

I've been off work the last couple of days. I had the day off on Monday anyway, and quite typically, I was ill. So I followed my day-off sick-day with a sick-day day-off.

I'm okay. I had a bit of a temperature. In ordinary times, that would be just something I'd sleep off with a hot water bottle and a Lemsip. These days, a high temperature is more like a warrant for your own house-arrest.

It wasn't however, feverishly high. The received wisdom is that a 'symptomatic' temperature is anything above 37.8C (99.8F), and I didn't once exceed that. I phoned the surgery anyway, and they told me to monitor my symptoms but also that I was probably okay. Then yesterday, my temperature dropped all the way back down to a very normal 36-and-a-bit.

I do have that feeling that I've walked back into a snow-flurry of work. I'm sure there was a time when this was easier, when there was far less pressure after a holiday or a time off. I missed two days and the roof seems to have caved in.

I really don't like that tight feeling. It's getting more and more familiar these days, like a sort of burning knot of panic - have I done what I'm supposed to do? Are there people out there complaining about me? Am I racing too fast? Am I working too slow? Have I prioritised everything well?

'Take a breath', says the empathetic part of my brain that works out what all the kind people might say if I were in the office trying to ignore the fact that a silence reminds me that we're in a global pandemic and everything's messed up.

They'd still be right though. I do need to breathe. Plus, I've not been outside for two days and that always sends me a little kooky. I can't imagine what would have happened if I'd had to isolate.