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| Category: General Experiences |
Date published: May 27, 2004 |
Calling Off Sick
by Greg Doyle
I know few people ever enjoy being sick. I am aware one or two folks use their sick time from work like it was permission to go on vacation. Personally, I really love my job and all that goes with police work (really!), so if I am calling off sick there is good reason.
Due to a change in command in the patrol division, a new policy was instituted about calling off sick. It seems that whenever someone gets promoted to captain it is a requirement to tinker with things that work just fine. How the division ever managed to function without each new commander I will never know.
Past practice was simple. All calls outside of regular business hours were routed into Dispatch. If you called off sick, a dispatcher notified your direct supervisor and noted it on the log. New policy added another layer of bureaucracy: now the caller had to speak directly to the on-duty watch commander, in order to call off.
I bring this up because as a sergeant on graveyard, I am the watch commander two nights a week. Frankly, I hate getting the phone calls. I think it is childish to some extent and belittles the employees who call off. Perhaps that was why the policy was instituted?
I am a firm believer that any situation can be used for good or evil. And since I have called off sick for the last four days (and have called in every day), I was beginning to have some doubts about calling off again. It seemed such a burden on my fellow sergeants who had to cover for me. And it happened that on the last day, I called off sick to the graveyard watch commander who was filling in for my absence.
I have written elsewhere about my friend Howard Harden. In late October 2002, Howard lost his wife, Jackie, to leukemia. I remember talking with Howie often throughout the treatments and hospitalizations and his first days back to work after the funeral (when I could not stop my eyes from watering.) Howard had a particularly rough go with the new division commander about his time off while Jackie was living the last year of her life. Employees were wagering (and hoping) that Howard would haul off and punch out the captain over the affair.
When Howard answered the phone, he immediately asked about my wife Linda. She had surgery on her right knee on Monday and had been fairly bed-bound to reduce the swelling and pain. I called off sick to care for her needs. I joked with Howie about what a terrible nurse I was and how frustrating the week had been.
Without missing a step, Howie gently reminded me about how Linda would have done the same for me. His words are still ringing in my ears, 'I know, I have been there Greg. Don't give this place another thought.'
Some folks might live their whole lives never knowing if they served some greater purpose, if their lives had meaning, if they ever heard their calling from God. Many expect thunder and lightning, bells and whistles, fireworks, or a grand parade announcing the moment. But the calling is never like that; at least not to anyone whoever felt called; at least not those to whom I have spoken. It is more like a whisper.
And after I hung up the phone, I went in and changed the ice pack on Linda's knee, kissed her, and told her about the phone call. We gazed into each other's eyes in silence for some time. We understood in a very small way that Howard missed Jackie and longed for one more moment like this. I imagine he would have given just about anything for one more sick day off with his wife. This was more important than work.
Howard never missed his calling. He was sitting right where he was supposed to be when someone needed to be reminded about what really matters most in life. He knew because he was prepared through the crucible of his own experience.
Thanks for answering the call, Howie, I owe you one.
The Gadfly
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In My Own Words: Out-of-the-Ordinary Experiences
