Veteran readers of Designated Writers’ daily Facebook posts going all the way back to … last month … might have noticed how I took some much-needed vacation time for the last few days. Y’all might have thought the stress of having to pound out 300 words every other day for … a month … might have been too much for me, thereby forcing me to take time off.

I had to let Teddy take over and pitch every day on short rest with his Mardi Gras retrospective, and I hope you enjoyed it.

But I sheepishly have to admit there was another reason why my byline was silenced. And it’s a reason I’m having a hard time fully coming to grips with it.

I had the flu. Or maybe I didn’t. The test said I didn’t, so even the doctor didn’t know.

One of my favorite personal bragging points is that I never get sick. And that’s fairly accurate. The first time I missed a day of work due to sickness at the Shreveport Journal, they announced the paper was folding. (That’ll teach me.) I don’t ever recall missing a day of high school. I might have missed the occasional day of college but, hey … you know …

However, after being sick for the last seven days, I discovered something that people around me had already found out — I’m no good at it. I stink at being sick. I whine, I complain and I act like I’m the only person who has ever felt bad.

On good days I’m a hypochondriac, so you can only imagine how insufferable I am when I’m suffering.

And yes, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Teddy and Mrs. Teddy were both down for the count for an extended period of time recently, and you never heard a peep out of either one of them. Me? I get a little cough and act like I’m hocking up a lung.

I think one of the reasons I don’t get sick is because no one — including medical personnel — can stand to be around it. My being healthy is a win-win for everybody.