I felt pretty bad that Monday, but I went into class anyway and taught. Late that night, though, I emailed my bosses, Anthony and Edwin, because I lost my voice. The next morning, Tuesday, my voice was still gone, so I confirmed with Anthony and Edwin that I wasn’t going to be able to teach.

That morning, barely able to swallow water, I created a lesson plan and a review/practice midterm for my class. I knew my students and the teacher who covered would need the help for the upcoming exam.

After that, I called Shabir, our trusty taxi guy. He had one of his drivers take me to the Huwaylat Clinic.

I arrived shortly before 2:00pm, but they weren’t open. I called our tech guy, Hayden, because he’s helped with information before, even though it’s not his job. He checked the clinic’s website and found out they wouldn’t open until 3:30pm.

Great.

So I waited. I waited until 3:30. But at 3:30, they still weren’t open.

I called Hayden again around 4:00. He talked to Jeff, the next level up in command. Hayden said Jeff said to try another 15 minutes and then just come back to the compound. The fun continues, I thought.

Around 4:10, a Saudi came to the door where I was waiting, looked confused, and then called someone. I asked him if he knew if the clinic would open. He said we needed to go to the other entrance, and the clinic would open in about 10 minutes. Sure enough, 10 minutes later, I was able to get in.

From there, I tried to open my health file but had trouble because I don’t have my health card. Of course, we’re never going to get these from McGill or the Royal Commission.

The receptionist, an unnaturally blue-eyed, Saudi woman, told me to talk to one of the directors. The director had me scan my passport and then directed me to a doctor. The doctor checked me over, including the pain that had been bothering my side for about a week, and then prescribed some medicine to help with my throat, my cough, and that pain around my ribs.

After roughly four hours of process time, the actual visit turned out all right.

It turned out all right until the end. When I was leaving, Hayden said to ask for a referral to the RC hospital so I could get a sick note. So back in I went.

The doctor said he’s not related to the RC hospital so he could only send me over there if it’s an emergency.

“I just need a note to show that I couldn’t go to work today,” I said.

He said he’d already given me a prescription so there’s nothing more the hospital could do. Then he wrote me one of those “he visited the clinic” notes.

At that point, I called Hayden yet again and told him I was just heading back to the compound to rest. I was sick. I was tired. And I was running around doing all this and getting even sicker and tireder. We could sort it out later.

The next day, I went to work. I still had a cough and didn’t feel great, but my fever had broken. It was just a quiz day, so I managed to hang through it. It wasn’t worth going through all the hassle of the phone calls and taxis and clinics and doctors and notes and lameness that surrounded the day before.

Thankfully, my bosses are cool. That, or they forgot. They didn’t take money out of my paycheck even though I never technically got the proper sick note.

It’s never great to get sick, but even with the pay, it’s definitely not okay to get sick with this McGill/Royal Commission contract.

My parents tried to teach me a lot. Some of it stuck. Some of it didn’t (my fault, not theirs).

Anyway, these are the top ten I can think of now, the ones that actually stuck, the ones I want to pass on to their grandchildren someday.

1. They taught me to read.

Before I could sit up on my own, my mom read to me. She probably read me more books than she read my three other brothers and sister combined. She says it’s one of the best things she did for me when I was young. It might not have worked for everyone, but I’m guessing the success rate would probably be pretty high. I certainly learned to love reading, the ability to go to a different world through stories and learn about interesting things and ideas, from those early years.

2. They taught me to eat anything.

I remember sitting for what seemed like hours at the kitchen table because I didn’t want to eat a tunafish sandwich. Other days, it was canned asparagus, which my dad later admitted was disgusting, or some other vegetable of the day. My parents didn’t necessarily teach me to enjoy all foods, but by teaching me to eat anything, they taught me the value of not being picky.

3. They taught me to be wise with money.

We didn’t have a lot of money growing up. In the early years in Louisville, my dad worked at Sam’s Club during the week and pastored the church on weekends. My mom stayed home and homeschooled us. We didn’t have a lot of money, so I learned to appreciate its value. My dad can remember weighing the price of a cable he wanted for our stereo system. It only cost a few dollars, but at the time, he knew that meant we’d have to be even more thrifty with our grocery money. Those times were good for me because they taught me both sides of valuing money, the save carefully side but also the spend wisely side.

4. They taught me to pray.

On the way to church every week, my parents would pray. Each of the kids in the car would pray too, whether we liked it or not. Most of the time, we liked it, maybe not in the beginning, but it grew on us. It became a way of life and spilled outside the car. When someone was sick, we’d pray. When we lost something around the house, we’d pray. When the day turned out especially well, we’d pray. So now I pray, even when we’re not “we” anymore.

5. They taught me to be thankful.

“Just be thankful,” Momma always said. I didn’t always appreciate that. I probably still wouldn’t, but their lifestyle overall taught me to be grateful for what I have. I can’t remember how many times I thought I was bored because, I thought, I had nothing to do. It took years to realize how much I have, and it keeps me going every day, probably the biggest lesson I’ve learned ever in life.

To be continued on Father’s Day. For now, Happy Mother’s Day, Momma! Thank you for all you’ve taught me.

This week, I discovered three trends.

1. It’s too difficult to hit the routine requirements after I get home from a day at work.
2. Doing these workouts early in the morning feels the best.
3. I never have time in the morning.

This, as you might imagine, has caused some delays. Instead of working on this every other day, the way I’m supposed to, I’m doing it every other day and a half. On top of making it hard to get into a decent routine with this kind of schedule, it also means I’m not getting stronger as fast as I should be.

I feel like I might even be losing some strength because, with the extra time between workouts, my muscles aren’t forced to stay fit. This is not good.

I need to either figure out a better way to fit these workouts into my mornings or this is going to be a struggle the whole way. As it looks right now, I’m going to have to repeat the week 3 routine next week, which means I’ll be two weeks behind.