This summer of 2022, I faced death not once, but four times. It was a harsh summer, but it taught me invaluable lessons about health, overwork, and life, particularly as an academic. I learned these lessons, unequivocally, the hard way.
(1) “If you don’t make time for your wellness, you’ll be forced to make time for your sickness” — Joyce Sunada
This quote became my reality. Illness forced me to stop. Recently, I had a sobering conversation with my doctor, a “post mortem” of my sickness. His words were direct: “You have overworked for a very long time. You consistently push your physical limits. Your energy and passion for your work are admirable, but you relentlessly push yourself. It’s not healthy.”
Hearing this from my physician was a stark wake-up call. Ironic, even embarrassing. I often advise against overworking, yet I had fallen into the trap myself. I kept pushing because I didn’t feel exhausted – until my body made me realize I was.
In May 2022, I traveled to Germany and the US. Normally, these trips would be manageable, even enjoyable. I was accustomed to constant travel. However, this year was exceptionally demanding with teaching, administrative tasks, course preparations, thesis reviews, and feedback – incredibly busy.
And so, predictably, I ignored the growing fatigue in May, dismissing it as jet lag from the Germany trip. But by the time I reached Washington DC, the tiredness was profound. Still, I pushed on. Finally, in DC, two dear friends noticed. “You look TIRED,” they said. “You need to take care of yourself. We need you healthy.” (Thank you, Leila and Sameer).
Returning from DC, my mother contracted COVID. Caring for her, even though her case was mild, added to my already immense stress. It was the final straw. I then got COVID myself. My body, already weakened by travel, stress, and chronic overwork, was vulnerable.
The consequences were severe. June was lost to sickness, caring for a COVID patient and then battling it myself. July was worse, plagued by COVID sequelae so severe I nearly died multiple times. August was a slow, gradual recovery.
This experience underscored a crucial second lesson:
Alt text: Serene sunset view over Vancouver and North Vancouver, reflecting peacefulness and the need for rest.
(2) Recognize and heed burnout warning signs.
I had experienced burnout before and knew the indicators: demotivation, aversion to academic reading, inexplicable exhaustion. But again, travel masked these signs. They were all there, but I was blind to them. This is a common trap in academia. We rationalize burnout: “Just a tired week,” or “It’ll improve once I clear my to-do list.” The truth is, the list is never truly cleared.
I’ve written about avoiding overwork on my blog numerous times. Yet, when it mattered most, I failed to recognize the glaringly obvious signs of burnout. Everyone around me could see it, except me. I was completely, utterly, and undeniably burnt out.
Alt text: A man in a library stares intently at a laptop, symbolizing the intense focus and potential isolation of academic work, highlighting the importance of seeking support.
(3) Seek support, especially emotional support.
Desperate about my stalled recovery, I tweeted: “I’ve lost all interest in academia and all I care about is being healthy again.” The response was overwhelming – hundreds of messages filled with love and well-wishes.
The unthinkable has happened: for 9 weeks, I’ve been sick. For 5 of those I’ve struggled to remain alive. And I’ve lost all interest in doing any academic work. My only interest right now is staying alive and improving my health.
— Dr Raul Pacheco-Vega (@raulpacheco) August 5, 2022
Twitter, often a chaotic platform, became a source of unexpected support. My Twitter community, along with my Facebook friends who checked in daily, kept me going. I was amazed by the outpouring of support from online spaces. This emotional support fueled my hope for a full recovery, which I am now achieving.
My doctor has strictly forbidden a return to my “hyper-energetic self.” He plainly stated: “I want you to return to normal people’s normal, not YOUR normal. This means reducing your workload and intensity.” As someone who respects rules, and with no desire to die young, I’m heeding his advice. I’m now acutely aware of my body’s signals, monitoring my well-being hourly, daily, and weekly. If rest is needed, I rest, work be damned.
Crucially, my recovery didn’t truly begin until I consulted a pulmonologist.
Alt text: Colorful and hopeful sunset sky, representing recovery and the promise of better health after overcoming illness.
(4) Advocate for your own health.
Initially, I saw a general practitioner, then an otolaryngologist. It wasn’t until I consulted a pulmonologist that we identified the problem and its solution. COVID-19 is a perplexing illness, unpredictable, with uncertain long-term effects. I am incredibly fortunate to be alive. With an immune system weakened by overwork and exhaustion, survival was largely due to luck.
My pulmonologist’s stark warning truly resonated: “You survived this time, but you likely won’t get another chance. Your body cannot withstand another crisis like this. TAKE CARE!”
YIKES.
In conclusion, to my fellow academics: see yourselves in my experience. Prioritize self-care before you are forced to by illness. Learn from my hard-learned lessons.
I have, finally, learned my lesson.
