Last week, for the first time, I was hit with COVID. Hard. It sucked.

I got exposed on a Saturday. Started having symptoms Monday night, got even worse Tuesday, but didn’t test positive until Wednesday. And Thursday and Friday were especially hellacious.

And to be honest, I wasn’t sure what to do regarding my work.

I didn’t get COVID while I had a full-time job with benefits like, you know, sick days. I got sick while fully self-employed, just a month into the existence of Lex Friedman Consulting. I had signed contracts — and collected deposits — from a couple brand new clients on Monday and Tuesday. And by Wednesday, I was already struggling.

I moved the meetings I could. But meetings with brand new clients felt immovable. Meetings with folks that had been scheduled weeks in advance (because of their own hectic schedules) seemed dangerous to move — how long would I wait to get back on their calendars?

So Wednesday I had a bunch of meetings. By 4:30, I finished the last one, and I went upstairs to my bed, where I remained until the following morning.

Thursday was more of the same. Thursday night, however, was terrible; I didn’t sleep, felt worse by the minute, and truly couldn’t figure out what to do. Friends and family were encouraging me to cancel my meetings, and at first glance, my conclusion was I couldn’t.

At second glance, I decided four of the eight meetings could move, and I apologetically emailed the folks involved to explain I was sick and needed to reschedule, and shared my calendar scheduling link.

The other four, though, felt too precious to move.

When I jumped on the first one, a long-scheduled call with a busy friend, he immediately noted I sounded terrible, and I explained the situation. He then asked if we should reschedule, and I explained I didn’t want to wait another few weeks because I needed to pitch him on something time-sensitive. He asked: “How about Monday?” We rescheduled, and I went back to bed for a couple hours.

There’s no great story here. I did two half-hour meetings back to back later that day, and the folks in those meetings were grateful, even if apologetic that I had to see them. The fates saw to it that the fourth and final meeting of the day had to get canceled because the person on the other side lost power.

The truth is, I wasn’t especially kind to myself. In fact, I bet if I’d canceled more Wednesday and Thursday meetings, I’d be a day further along on my recovery; the rest did wonders for me.

But I was looking out for my clients and focused on the health of my still-new business. I was afraid. Specifically, I was afraid that if I canceled meetings, my business would suffer. So instead, I suffered.

I don’t think it was admirable that I was looking out for my clients and business this way. I think it was a mistake. No one objected to my need to reschedule. I think two brand new clients whose meetings I did keep would have understandably been frustrated if I had instead bumped their meetings to the following week. But I also think they would have understood.

And frankly, if they didn’t understand, it’s probably better to refund their deposits and part ways than to keep customers who don’t understand that I’m, you know, human.

So this is a reminder to myself as much as everyone else to be generous with your own self too. Yes, being generous with your time is important and pays dividends. Showing that same generosity to yourself means taking the sick day, blocking some time between meetings, or shutting down at the end of the day when your mind needs rest.

I didn’t get it right this time. That’s okay. We don’t bat 1000. But I promise you — and more importantly, me — next time, I’m canceling the whole darn day.