Mind Over Matter?

Forget self-indulgence: I am feeling guilty. And confused.
I'm wondering whether my body is playing tricks on me... or whether my mind is doing its own thing, regardless.

See, this morning, I was supposed to be on a creche outing: 18 little kids and a bunch of adults, including 4 volunteer parents, i.e. moi.
I was supposed to be helping shepherd all these kids through a modern art museum, keeping little hands away from fragile sculptures while braver people than me strived to introduce exuberant two-year olds to the nuances of modern art.
And I was looking forward to the prospect, I really was.

But yesterday afternoon, I was struck down. My body shifted into sick-mode, I felt hot, sweaty, tight-throated, achy: incapable of dragging my weary muscles anywhere other than into bed.
So I guiltily fled home from work, curled up under the bedcovers and lay rigid and sorrowful for the next few hours.
In the meantime, FH warned the creche that they'd have to find a replacement: another mother with a more pressing inclination to herd a troop of two-year olds through the museum.
I felt bad, I felt I was letting the side down... but I was too ill to move, so I let the guilt go.

This morning, FH and the boys left at the crack of dawn: they had to be dropped off earlier so that BB would be on time for the outing.
I helped dress and feed them, still in a fog of suffering, and at 7.45, they all left.

And then. Then.
A miracle occurred.
I got better.

Seriously: the fog lifted, my muscles relaxed, my head cleared: I felt OK again.
Which brings us just about full circle to the fact that I'm sitting here feeling confused, and guilty.
Am I a hypochondraic? Was I subconsciously so afraid of the incongruous mix of small kids & modern art that my body seized up in terror?
Or did I just need time for myself. Imposed bed rest?

Whatever the cause, it's a funny old thing, the Mind.