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The Spirit Is Willing

As someone who is cursed with the appearance of being big, strong, and robust, sometimes it's hard for some people to believe just how unhealthy I really am. Without indulging in some unwise full disclosure here, let's just say that that I've dodged death by sickness a few times in my life already. That's a direct consequence of being born and living the first part of my life in a Third-World country, I suppose.

Anyway, presently I've been forced to stay home for several days because of gout, as well as a bad cold which probably developed because of the depressed state of my immune system when the gout attack started over the weekend. This is my third day away from my desk at work, and to be perfectly honest, it's quite embarrassing to have to call my boss in the morning and tell her that I cannot come to work due to illness. Now she is a kind, understanding person, but I still do feel an obligation to be at my desk and contribute to our team's goals. When I'm not there, everybody else has to pull harder. That is just the nature of things.

For people who don't know me really well, there is, I suppose, an illusion that Joe is hearty and hale, hard to bring down. The truth is, it's like having a suit of armor made of well-painted cardboard: You test the defenses, and you'll see just how frail those defenses are.

I'm sick of being sickly. Alas, I've resigned myself to always being more vulnerable to illness than anyone who looks like me (I'm built like a fullback or a run-stopping linebacker in football) would ever be expected to.

If only the flesh was as strong as the spirit.

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