She leaned in way closer than I was comfortable with—only two or three inches from my face—and I felt the wind of her breath touch the skin around my mask as she informed me that she had the Christmas Crud.
I leaned away, but it was too late.
Why this coworker seems to think wearing a mask makes me deaf, I don't know. She never gets this close to anyone else.
From past experience, I knew that asking a sick person not to breathe into my face is rude. She'd be insulted if I requested she back off until her contagion cleared. Why it's polite to spread disease, but impolite to ask that you not be infected, I don't know. Are our social mores written by germs?
I steered clear of her the rest of our shift, and hoped for the best.
The next day I woke up with a slightly sore throat. It felt like I'd been snoring again. Though my partner hadn't heard anything, sometimes he does sleep through it.
I masked up and went to work.
Despite the fact that I'd slept well, exhaustion kept creeping up on me. My head started to pound a few hours into the shift, and Nature seemed intent on calling me to the restroom every hour (or less). With two hours left in my shift, I found my supervisor and asked to be released.
"I think Mary gave me whatever she's got, yesterday."
He looked confused (probably because I'd already worked 8 of my 10 hours), but let me go home early without issue. Most of the work was already done.
I hobbled home, washed off, ate dinner, and went to bed.
When I woke up, I was undeniably ill. My throat ached. My nose ran. I had an uncontrollable cough. Fever and chills, too. There are times when I wish I had a normally functioning immune system, and this is definitely one of those times.
I am miserable.