I’ve finally accepted that my friends are right: despite all my excuses, I can’t actually just be “allergic to winter”*. This means my immune system isn’t actually made of steel and I’ve caught the Death Crud that’s been going around.
I admit, at first I pooled together my entire fund of knowledge from M1 so far and decided the most logical choice of illness – given a slight rash I had on my leg – was definitely Stevens-Johnson Syndrome. But it’s been 12 hours and I’m still not on life-support, so.
Question: What do surgeons do when they come down with upper respiratory gunk? I can’t believe they’d ever stay home for something so trivial – but it seems like sneezing incessantly into your face mask would compromise the sterile field.
Anyway, I can’t help but feel a little guilty for lying in bed and watching Genetics lectures. Normally, I’d force myself to be out studying like a normal person and living the dream (you know, sitting up, drinking coffee, wearing clothes that aren’t made of flannel**) but I’m hoping if I act like a sick person today it’ll make the Death Crud (and its associated red eyes, red nose, and hazy thought process) go away sooner.
If not before finals, then at least before Christmas, please. I’m spending the holiday with Boyfriend’s family and, since I probably won’t impress them with my wit or off-kilter social skills, I’d at least like to not look like a drug addict.
I set my goals high like that.