Deja-voodoo

When it comes to my health, I've learned at work just to keep my mouth shut -- or at most to say I was struck by the flu, and then immediately to change the subject. Despite that, it's amazing how quickly the two streets named "Concern" and "Stupidity" intersect.

A little background: I'm over 50 years old. I've endured years of hospitalization due to an early childhood accident. And I can be considered within the realm of average intelligence. Plus, over the years, I have learned that I might as well mention the accident immediately when I take a new job just to get it out of the way. Besides, that information usually gives people something tangible to work with when it comes to trying to understand my sometimes weird behavior and to leave me in peace.

So, anytime I miss work because of illness, I just say I had the "flu" (which seems to be the same thing 99% of my colleagues always say about their absences as well).

Yet as soon as I get back to work, the questions start, and in this sequence:
"Are you feeling better?" (Answer: Yes, thanks for asking.)
"Did you go to the doctor." (Answer: Yes (even though I sometimes tell an untruth here, since this answer at least stops 50% of the work populace from continuing the inquisition).

But 50% just keep going:

"What did he say?"

My standard response to this is "It was a she." Yes, I sometimes lie about this as well, but it's a good enough tactic to stop another 50% of the questioners. Which leaves only 25% of the original questioners. So the questions continue:

"Oh. What did she say?"

I pause for a long second and then I say "That I'm now well enough to go back to work." And that stops another 50% of remaining nosies. So now I'm down to 12.5% of the original crowd. But now it start's getting really ridiculous.

"Are you sure?"

I then have to bite my tongue to prevent it from slashing "No. I'm 53 years old. I have absolutely no experience with being ill and going to doctors despite the fact that I spent half my life in hospitals all over North America." Yet, I do grab my tongue just in time and only allow it to say "Yup. Dead sure. But now my greatest worry is catching up on all my work. Just look at my desk."

That strategy knocks out another 50% of the remaining mindless, so now I'm down to ...just a moment, gotta calculate...6.25% of the original. Now these are the ultra-persistent. No game plan seems to knock them off their rails. Instead, they are only getting started, and ready to start feeding me with ever more helpful questions, such as (and I won't bother including my helpless responses since they seem not to work anyway.)

"Listen, I know a very good doctor. Do you want me to give you his name?"
"Did he give you a prescription?"
"What exactly did he prescribe?"
"Gee, that doesn't sound very effective. Did you ask him to give you X?"
"No? Well, my doctor would be glad to see you. Here, let me give you his name, Dr. ABC. After taking X for two days, you will feel much better. Are you sure that you don't want his number?"

At this point, I announce that I have to run to the men's room or to make an urgent phone call. This usually does the trick. No more questions. No more wonder cures. Yet, there's that tiny 0.5% who don't give up, a group I call the "criminally curious".

When I go to work the next day, they soon show up at my desk, full of concern:

"So, did you call Dr. ABC?"