Don’t You Wish You Could Call In A Sick Day From Life?

I have been sick with the rapidly spreading illness at the center of the global health crisis for several days. I start having chest pain and decide I need to go to the emergency room. I live alone, so I’m keeping everyone updated by text message. After I’m checked in, I let my mom know what’s going on.

Me: “My oxygen is still good.”

Mom: “That’s good. I love you. Stay strong.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Mom: “I think you meant to say, ‘I love you, too, Mom.’”

Me: “…”

It was determined that my chest pain wasn’t critical and I was discharged. A few days later, my mom complained that I wasn’t making a point of contacting her every day with an update, instead merely responding promptly every time she asked how I was. Apparently, in between sleeping fifteen hours a day and coughing so hard it causes serious chest pain, I’m expected to make a point of keeping up with my correspondence.