Sickness has a way of leaving its mark. Not just the aches or the fevers, but the memories—how people react, who shows up, and the chaos that comes with it. Some of my sick days were miserable, some were funny in hindsight, and all of them taught me something about the people around me.

When I was a kid, missing a day of school was not an option. Anytime we said we were sick, Mom’s response was, “Take an aspirin and a Geritol and you’ll feel fine.” Sympathy wasn’t really on the table. One time that I did manage to stay home from school, I remember making it far enough to be standing in the bathroom doorway, dry-heaving and trying to get my bearings. Dad took one look, grabbed my shoulders, and shoved me toward the toilet. No gentle words, no comforting back rub—just “protect the rug.”