In Sickness and In Health

I firmly believe that every blog should at least have one obligatory "I-Am-Sick, Therefore-I-Hate-The-World" blog post.

Thus, this is it.

*twiddles thumbs*

...

Apparently, I have some sort of viral infection/flu/bronchitis (the latter is written on my medical certificate- my doctor figured that if he described it as bronchitis, "your workplace isn't going to want you in anyway."). The last week has been...painful. My misery was further compounded by the fact that the most wonderfully warm, sunshiny weather has emerged, and instead of going outside to enjoy the warmth, I've been stuck in my very own germ-ridden cocoon of blankets, shivering one minute then overheating the next.

I spent all of yesterday in bed with a fever, until I dragged myself out of bed to see the doctor. I figured that seven hours of daytime sleep might get rid of what I've now come to call my 'zombie eyes' but I look even worse than before. Now, I look like an extra on "Dawn of the Dead", or better yet, a character template on "Dead Rising".

I thought that maybe I'd get over it by today, but it seems to have bitten back with a vengeance. Swallowing still hurts, I still have this strange pain in my ears, and pain sensitivity has been cranked up to 11 on a scale of 1-10.

However, I have drugs. Drugs are good. Drugs are my friend. Happy drugs that come in two tones of yellow in a cool little capsule. And with the help of my good friends Amoxycillin and Panadol, I SHALL BE UNSTOPPABLE.

In the meantime, I shall crawl back into my little hole with my ugg boots.

I have work at 9 a.m tomorrow, in which I plan to steel myself with a bucket of strong coffee the size of my head. For the past three morning shifts, all I've done is slowly stir four sachets of sugar into my cappuccino, checking periodically for anyone who requires assistance. No one really does at 9 a.m (why would you wake up before 11 a.m if you didn't have to- and furthermore, why would you decide to go shop for electronics at that hour?)

I have also missed seven hours of uni this week (well, nine if you count the lecture on Critical Legal Studies, but I voluntarily walked out of that one) so that's not good. Maybe my body is awarding itself its own mid-semester break, although I could have told my immune system that there are better ways to do it.

Our mid-semester break is in Week 10. There are 13 weeks in a semester. Considering we are meant to house some of the greatest mathematical minds in this country, it does get you a bit worried.

Anyhow, the moral of this post is: stay away from me, I may yet still be contagious.