When the Solo Founder Gets Sick, Everything Stops

Our last Hair Loss Pride dinner meetup

There’s a version of being sick that people like to romanticize. The kind where you still answer emails from bed. Where you “listen to your body” but somehow keep the wheels turning.

This wasn’t that.

This was the kind of sick where your body fully taps out. No negotiation. No powering through.

Last week, I got hit with a stomach bug. I still don’t know if it was food poisoning or the stomach flu. What I do know is that for two full days, I could barely walk. I couldn’t eat. I was dizzy, weak, and completely wiped out. And I was caring for my two young daughters while my husband was away on a work trip. He travels often for work, and this was just brutally bad timing.

After those two days, I thought I was in the clear. I felt a little better for about forty-eight hours and let myself believe the worst was over.

It wasn’t.

Earlier this week, I got slammed again. High fever. Chills. Cough. Headache. Congestion. When I thought the stomach bug was bad, my fever and chills showed up to humble me even further. I truly don’t think I’ve ever been that sick.

I spent an entire day in bed, which for me is almost unthinkable. I’m restless by nature. I always have a to-do list running in my head. Lying in bed all day feels wasteful to me, like I’m falling behind just by resting. But I had no choice. All I could do was sleep, sweat, wake up soaked, change clothes, pile on another sweatshirt, and repeat.

At one point, I seriously considered going to the ER. That’s how bad it got.

I couldn’t work. Not even a little. I couldn’t look at my phone without feeling worse. There was no chance I could take calls, coach clients, or respond to emails. I had to cancel a coaching session because I felt so ill, and that honestly broke my heart. Thankfully, I had some content filmed before getting sick, so I posted that even though it wasn’t my best. It was all I had.

And it was a stark reminder of something every solo founder knows but tries not to dwell on: when you are the business and you go down, everything stops.

That’s terrifying when you’re running a small business that isn’t profitable yet. When your work relies on human connection, networking, showing up, and being visible. There’s no backup team. No one quietly handling things behind the scenes.

But here’s what this week taught me.

Community matters more than we think.

In my personal life, people showed up for me in ways I won’t forget. Neighbours and friends walked my kids to and from school. My mother-in-law brought food for me and the girls and helped with baths. My sister-in-law walked our dog and brought me medicine. I genuinely don’t know how I would have made it through the week without them.

I’m terrible at asking for help. I avoid it until the very last moment. This time, I didn’t have a choice. As humbling as that was, it was also incredibly grounding.

The same thing happened professionally.

For the past six months, I’ve been quietly doing the work. Sending emails. Nurturing relationships. Trying to be useful. Providing education. Showing up consistently without immediate payoff. And this week, even though I couldn’t do anything new, the emails kept coming. Inquiries from potential clients. Messages from brand partners. Interview opportunities.

Work was waiting for me on the other side of being sick.

That realization hit me hard. In the best way.

This week was brutal physically. There’s no sugarcoating that. But it was also deeply fulfilling in an unexpected way. It reminded me that the work I’m doing matters. That how I show up for people is being noticed. That community, both personal and professional, isn’t something you build when you need it. It’s something you build long before.

I didn’t choose to stop this week. My body forced me to. And while I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone, I’m walking away with a deeper respect for rest, for relationships, and for the quiet work that compounds over time.