Sick of This

Let me just give you the rundown: I’ve been a little sick this week. I only get sick like twice a year which of course means I am totally incapable of handling it when it does come around. I am the one that self-diagnoses through things like webMD which of course means I have every type of terminal illness and likely a new strain of the flu. I become patient zero and must contain myself within a plastic bubble, notifying everyone I have come in contact with in the last seven days. We don’t need an outbreak by golly!!

So, Monday: Productive day at school. Woke up two hours early all on my own with time to primp and make it to Lowe’s for some home repair errands. I was on top of it…as was my best friend, J-Dub. It was a Monday mind you, and we BOTH had it together so we BOTH knew the world was ending. Mondays are typically an accomplishment IF we get our coffee and make it out of the house. There was an impending doom because we were both happy on a Monday morning. 

Impending Doom: Celebratory Chinese Food. My brother-in-law and I decided we had both aced some major test and it was just necessary to indulge in some Chinese. BAD IDEA! Chinese needs to be planned…not made into a spontaneous trip to a buffet in the middle of an afternoon. Per usual at a Chinese buffet we ate our weight in General Tso’s and proceeded on with our drive home.

Now I am not blaming the Chinese…but it surely didn’t fight off whatever was culminating. By the time I get home I have a fever and chills. Not just any fever…the Bubonic Plague fever. Wrapped in sweats and a sweatshirt with my biggest blanket I curl up to watch my go to movie…Beauty and the Beast, of course. Feeling like my clothes are made of needles I fall asleep with all the lights on and call it a night. I made sure to inform my sister of my hide-a-key spot to collect my dead body the next day.

Tuesday morning: Definitely couldn’t make it to work or school…the fever and chills migrated to produce a horrible headache and sore throat. “No biggie,” I thought, “I will just go to mom’s house. That’s the cure all.” Mom was at work though…and the less comforting words of my brother were slightly uninviting. It’s ok though…tomato soup will help. Tomato soup is easy they say. Open the can they say. Not so much. I use Mom’s little handy-dandy mechanical can-opener that hangs under the counter. My soup drops…and not only drops but erupts all over the counter and walls and cabinets and stove and refrigerator. Every bit of me wanted to throw myself on the floor and cry…but after a few expletives a roll of paper towels I cleaned it up and proceeded with my soup. And that night…I gave up…so I passed out after a NyQuil.

Wednesday…I hope no one looked at me all day. Despite the lack of makeup, puffy eyes, and over-sized plaid button up I managed to get out of the house for school. Surely some hydration and cough drops would help. Except I couldn’t swallow from my tonsils being so swollen, so as I choked water down I grimaced…every time. If anyone was looking, it must have appeared that I was disgusted with their existence. I probably made countless enemies just by trying to hydrate. The cough drops I conveniently found in my medicine drawer were probably five years old..thus the wrapper was caked to the actual cough drop. I was able to pry one open in the middle of Brit Lit but the conversation I was having with myself about how disgusting they were probably made me look delusional.

I decided to self-medicate with Father Tom’s Pub. My lovely bar-tender John provided me with a nice coffee stout to warm me up and soft pretzels with this amazing HORSERADISH MUSTARD…I can’t explain the healing effects of this mustard. One must experience this on their own. Needless to say, I looked like I was crying…alone…at a bar. Pathetic. But hey…it helped me survive my night class.

Thursday: After a full night of coughing and turning and coughing some more, I took Thursday to rest again. And again I drove to my mom’s. I was appalled at my brother’s lack of desire to indulge in a two-hour Boy Meets World marathon. What a loser! 😉 Oh, and my poor mother…she endured my father and I arguing and being sick all evening. If you have ever seen Brian Regan’s skit about the femur ward you can envision my father and I. Actually…I will attach the link…it’s a must watch.

And finally…enough is enough. I headed to health services Friday morning.

“Hi! I am Dr. So and So and will be running a strep test and mono test. Is that ok? It involves a needle? We will also be amputating a limb and doing open heart surgery. Do you comply?”

Me: “Yes yes that’s fine.”

Dr: “Ok great! All tests are negative. I am going to issue you with some meds..blah blah blah and also you don’t need to run for at least 5 more days. Mmmkk?”

Me: “WHAT?!#&#*^A*#$(&(#&(#A&(^#(#(^#”

And he sends me on my way to class. Jerk. He needs his license revoked.

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