BLOG: Flu Season

This week I’ve decided to write my blog in a slightly different style. I call it “Flu Season: a Drama in Five Parts.”

Part 1: Denial

I’m not sick. I can’t be sick. I’ve taken all the feasible preventative measures to make sure I don’t get sick. I’m not sick, because my lungs aren’t burning. That’s a trick of the South Dakota subzero temperatures. I’m not sick, because that migraine could just as easily be attributed to eye strain. I’m not sick, because my sore throat is just a result of my post-nasal drip. It must be allergies. There’ve been known to be high pollen warnings in the middle of winter, right? There’s a thin layer of dust on my shelves in my dorm room. Yeah, it’s the dust. I’ll clean my room tomorrow. I’m not sick. I’ll just pop a Claritin.

Part 2: Anger

If this is because of that lady at Charlie’s Grill who hacked on my French toast…I knew I should have demanded my food be made again. For the love of health codes, if you can’t hold in your cough long enough to flip a piece of bread on a grill you shouldn’t go to work. I’m surrounded by diseased morons. There is always someone sniveling here or someone gargling phlegm there. No wonder I’ve been stricken — everyone is too stupid to cover their cough. No one is capable of blowing their noses without their mommies here to help them. God hates me.

Part 3: Bargaining

Are you there, God? It’s me, Jackie. I thought maybe we could reach a compromise. You’re pretty busy and I’m pretty busy. Nobody’s got time for the flu. I was thinking maybe you could take care of this for me. I mean, if I fall behind on my school work, I’ll never have time to go to church. Pretty please?

Part 4: Depression

This is the end. I’ll never make it. I can’t move. No one’s here to make me soup. I’m too sick to work, so I’ll fall behind on my deadlines. My grades will plummet. I’ll lose my scholarship. I’ll have to repeat a semester. I’ll be too discouraged to go on, so I’ll drop out. My family will disown me. My friends will abandon me. I’ll die in the street while wild Verm cats wait patiently to feast on my corpse. It’s all over.

Part 5: Acceptance

I guess I’ll just have to stock up on tissues and orange juice and try to work from bed for a few days. My roommate can take me to the doctor if I get worse. Then, I’ll look into IV drips in Hollywood, FL or IV therapy in Cleveland, OH and a ketamine treatment. For this, I might need to research services such as The Ark Medspa for intravenous therapy or Chi-Ma Med Spa in Joliet, IL that provide mobile IV hydration in Atlanta, GA or IV infusion therapy in Tinley Park. This will actually be a nice excuse to takes naps and stay rested. I’ll be fine.