They warned me, again and again, to stay away, and I should have. Hubris is a withering disease sometimes. I thought the Mansion was a place I should be if everybody were sick, wouldn’t they need for visits and a dog be great?

What good am I if I am not there when there is trouble?

I wish I could say this was altruistic or heroic, but I know better it might have just been egotistical, the chance to be a hero, to feel good about myself. I didn’t even bother to put a mask on; somehow, I thought it would pass me by.

In this kind of work, boundaries and limits are crucial; burnout is the enemy. When trained professions urge you to do something, it’s best to do something. I am not above the law.

But I never hesitated to be there. Some lessons are just never learned.

I was, after all, the helper. The danger of doing good is narcissism, of course.

You start to believe your fantasies about yourself, your inner PR. This flu will teach me a lesson. I started feeling exhausted and flush this afternoon at the re-scheduled Mansion Christmas Party, and I loved walking around with Zinnia and handing out presents.

A bell in my head did go off when I got a sudden headache and felt weak enough to keel over. I could feel a fever flushing my face. I retreated.

I scooped up Zinnia and fled. I reminded myself that just because I am helping people does not mean I am supernatural.

I owe my good and faithful heart more than catching a wicked virus or the flu. Another lesson in humility, things are already getting hazy and shaky, my appetite is gone, and my shivers have transcended the bitter cold.

Time for bed and rest, and the help of a wonderful partner.  She warned me too. I will hear about that.

And I sure have enough dogs around to keep me company. Later.

(The photo is of Kassi Garmley, the Mansion Director, and Zinnia. Kassi works unbelievably hard and under enormous pressure. Zinnia lifts her up.)