Physician, Heal Thyself: Rethinking Sick Days

The world blurs. My head pounds like a drum, each beat echoing in the caverns of my cement-filled sinuses. My nose flows like a spring thaw, and my rough cough scrapes my raw throat. Every muscle screams in protest, and a bone-deep fatigue anchors me to the couch.

Viral crud. It finally got me.

Ironically, I didn't catch this bug from my young patients. Nope, this was a gift from spending time with the older generation. I’d caught old codgers crud.

Thankfully, this hit during a rare two-week break from hospital shifts. No agonizing over the "call-in" dilemma: the guilt of leaving colleagues in the lurch versus the responsibility of not spreading the plague. But it did trigger a much-needed introspection: why do we, as physicians, have such a tortured relationship with being sick?

For years, I've played the "Do as I say, not as I do" game. A colleague sniffling? "Go home! Rest! We've got this!" Me with the same symptoms? "It's just a scratchy throat; I'm fine! Scheduled acetaminophen and ibuprofen, some Zofran begged from the pharmacy, and I’m fine!"

This time, though, I took a minute to examine my relationship with getting sick. I found a wave of shame had washed over me. What had I done wrong? Had I failed to wash my hands enough? Was I a walking biohazard, unknowingly infecting others before I became symptomatic? Beneath the physical discomfort lurked a more profound unease – the insidious expectation of physician-as-superhuman. Sleep? Optional. Food? An afterthought. Emotions? Compartmentalize and conquer.

A ridiculous thought surfaced somewhere in the depths of my fevered brain: Catching a cold is beneath me. As if our training somehow grants us immunity from basic biology. And this is just a common cold, a fleeting inconvenience compared to real medical battles like cancer, heart disease, and cognitive decline (which, realistically, I’ll probably have the opportunity to experience in the future - but hopefully only one of them and decades in the future).

The pandemic forced the world to acknowledge a simple truth: staying home when sick protects everyone. Yet, many in medicine struggle to internalize this because even during a worldwide cataclysm, someone had to care for the sick, even if we were ill ourselves. But let’s take it out of pandemic times and put it right into the day-to-day. We're at the cusp of another respiratory virus season. What happens when you catch viral crud? Not if, but when.

The time to plan is now, in this moment of calm. Let's make a pact to prioritize health: ours and our patients'.

• When will you check your temperature? At the first tickle in your throat, or when you're shedding layers, shivering despite the thermostat?

• When will you mask up? At the first sniffle, or when you're reaching for the thermometer?

• When will you ease up at work? With a sore throat, or when you're dragging yourself through rounds?

• When will you call for backup? When you have a fever or when you question your ability to function?

• When you do take time off, will you truly rest? Or will you catch up on emails, work on a manuscript, or get Zoom calls so you don’t “fall behind”?

I know the arguments going through your head. "I can't take a day off. I can’t abandon my patients and inconvenience my colleagues. I’d get so far behind, it’d be worse than if I just came to work sick.” But let's look at things realistically:

1. We are not superhuman, we are literal human beings

2. Humans get sick even when they’ve done everything possible to avoid it.

3. Staying home and resting is the best way to recover.

4. Staying home protects our patients and colleagues.

5. Our institutions will not have to develop workable systems to accommodate our taking sick days until we take sick days.

Taking a sick day isn't an act of rebellion. It's an act of self-preservation and a commitment to responsible patient care. Decide now, create your plan, and when illness inevitably strikes, focus on healing. Observe the impact – I guarantee you'll recover faster, and the clinic will not spontaneously crumble into a sinkhole in your absence.

Our institutions existed before us and will persist after us. It's time we prioritize our well-being for our own sake and for the sake of those we serve.