Otto called in sick yesterday.
Apparently, his blood wasn’t coagulating properly. At least that’s the excuse he gave when he phoned in.
He can’t just say “food poisoning” or “coming down with something.”
No, Otto has to have issues with blood coagulation. You know, something you can easily follow up on.
He’s back today. And he’s remarkably tanned. Apparently getting lots of sun is good for your blood. Golf too, I expect.
I know I should let it go. Everyone takes a mental health day now and again. And if anyone needs to address their mental health issues, it’s Otto.
But it’s just too much fun. So I spent the morning asking him about symptoms, about the diagnosis and the long-term implications of blood that isn’t coagulating properly.
He shifted nervously in his chair and said his doctor advised him to “take it easy for a day or two.”
By noon, word of Otto’s rare form of blood illness had spread throughout the office.
Everyone was interested and asking him about it. Was it permanent? Could it be treated. What caused it?
I asked him what his blood type was. He didn’t know.
Mary Margaret asked him if he’d need a transfusion. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.
Typhoid Mildred suggested he needed more iron. He nodded meekly.
All in all, it was quite the outpouring of concern.
By noon, Otto was hunched over his computer and appeared to be reading from an on-line medical journal.
Guess it didn’t help because he left quite suddenly at 1 p.m.
Apparently, he had a headache and needed to go home.
Good call, Otto. Stick to the unverifiable in the future.