In one of her books, my daughter came across the word “psychosomatic” and asked me what it means. I’m in my last days as department chair, and I have a colleague who is persecuting me within an inch of my life with endless demands, complaints, and discrimination claims. It’s an enormous energy suck, so it’s no wonder that I woke up today feeling completely sick. My voice is almost gone. I have a terrible sore throat, and I feel like I was hit on the head by the large oil cistern.
“This”, I told Klara with the last poor remnants of my voice, “this is what psychosomatic means.”
I am a walking dictionary in more ways than one.
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