“Dude, pneumonia kicks your ass,” he said with outraged sincerity. I struggled to keep my disbelief in check. Standing in front of me was, what my mother would have called, a strapping young man who was explaining why he had missed two weeks of my classes and needed a grading dispensation. He sensed my skepticism. He was pulling out all the persuasive stops. Public speaking 101. Know your audience, make eye contact, show conviction. Dude!
In my defense, I’ve been teaching for a long time and excuses are wildly uncreative. My grandma died, I had a car accident, I was sick, I was hung over. The dude was firmly rooted in the top four. (shrug) I didn’t believe him. I was being judgy. And, whenever I’m in my black robes proclaiming truth, it isn’t long before I get a snoot full myself and have to figure out a few things against my will. So, I went and got me some pneumonia.
Here’s what I learned from getting my own case of pneumonia. And believe me, aint’ none of it pretty. First, no one will ever say at my funeral, “She never complained.” A few crackles in my lungs, a low grade temperature and a little fatigue and you’d think I was stricken with a case of full body herpes. I spent two weeks sleeping like an old man in a recliner, mouth open, tissue box on my chest, hacking up what looked like guacamole. When I wasn’t coughing, I was complaining about coughing. I was a world class whiner. Turns out I’m the girl who gives up the states secrets at the first sight of bamboo. I’m that girl.
I learned that pneumonia is not the flu. You turn a corner with the flu and you climb out of the snotty mess-of-your-sick-self and move forward. Not so with pneumonia. You think you’re better and you tell yourself, “No nap. Today I’m going to be a big girl and stay up all day.” Then the music of the day winds down, you’re in the pick-up line to collect your children from school and before you know it the crossing guard wakes you to say, “Lady, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” You collect yourself, wipe the drool from your chin and realize your kids took one look at you and walked home.
I learned that pneumonia is the next Pilates and cephalexin is the next methamphetamine. Not much of me got stronger after I got fluid in my lungs but there is nothing like coughing up a lung to tone your abdominals. And, if you want to make money, serious money, stop stockpiling pseudoephedrine for your basement meth-chemistry lab and start growing mold. If pneumonia gets any more resistant people are going to miss a lot more than a few classes. And that means black market antibiotics drug-lording for you as a retirement plan. It’s just a thought.
All kidding aside, except about the complaining, fatigue and drooling part…what I really learned was this. Sometimes people/students/you/ need a break. Maybe a fictional grandma dies, maybe there’s been a fender bender or maybe you got a glimpse of your elderly self staring into space and wondering when you can take another pill. Either way, people struggle with what they struggle with whether you’re fluffing their pillows or taking attendance. I leaned sometimes people need a break even if it isn’t for pneumonia. But if it is–cut some serious slack because, Dude, pneumonia kicks your ass.

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