Oh get ready for a long one!
Tuesday night (this would be 6 days ago) I had that “I feel a cold coming, but its not here yet” feeling. It sucks when you get those doesn’t it? I mean you know its right fucking there and there ain’t a Goddamn thing you can do about it.
Next morning I wake up and my throat hurts each time I swallow, my voice is a little hoarse, I’m sneezing, my nose is stuffed and running. Best part? I have to finish up putting together a presentation that had to be given that night. So I do that, go to my class, give my presentation feeling like all kinds of shit. I hate having to do those assignments. I still see no point as to why we have to do those. I mean some people just don’t want to stand up in front of people and talk about a subject they only have knowledge in because a dumbass teacher told they had to do it. I am one of those people. It’s useless. And it certainly not “good practice for when you really do have to give a speech one day.” Yeah fuck that! If and when I do have to give a speech it isn’t going to be on the Zodiac constellations, damnit! It is going to be on something I care about. If it’s for a job or an interview, it’s going to pertain to something I obvious care about.
So I give the damn presentation. I wasn’t nervous. I don’t get nervous for public speaking. I just don’t care to do it when it’s the fucking teacher who should be doing it. DO YOUR JOB, ASSHOLE! Although I’m sure I looked like I was nervous. Had to keep clearing my throat, I’m sure it cracked here and there, but I was sick! That happens to me when I’m sick.
I get back from class and have to start in on a drawing due the next morning. If you are wondering why I leave it until the night before when the class is once a week well know this: fuck you and your judgments! But really, that’s how I am when it comes to art projects. We get assignments, I let the ideas stir in my head for a few days, sketch for a few more, then I just go at it for 5-7 hours the night before. I mean I get straight A’s in all my drawing classes so it seems to be a good system for me. Its just a lot harder to do a drawing when you got enough snot in you to dam a river. (Gross enough for you? Good.)
So now it’s Wednesday night and it’s my first night trying to sleep with this cold, and let me tell you, I never sleep well when I’m sick. This was no different. I woke up a couple times in the night and I had to be up at 9:30. I’m not a morning person when I’m in perfect health. Needless to say, I was the crankiest little bitch Thursday morning. Went to class, put up my drawing, snagged the one good seat in the room (because it’s a studio class with no tables and nothing but stools, a shitty wooden chair, a shitty plastic chair, and a really nice cushion chair with wheels. I was the first in the studio that morning and I did everything I could to make sure everyone knew I claimed it except pee on it. It was the only thing that made that morning manageable for me.
Thankfully we got out about 40 minutes early, I wandered straight back to my room, and was tired as all fuck. Normally under these situations I go straight to sleep. I was more than tired enough and my body sure could have used it. Problem? Had a huge fucking text the next morning that I had to be ready for. I spend the rest of my day studying. About 8 hours worth. Why studying so hard the day before? Because the teacher for this class is no teacher at all. All she fucking does is lecture and wants you to take notes of every last word she says offering no helpful ways of actually learning the material. But why the day before? Well I didn’t. I had been studying it little by little the whole week before, but I still didn’t know much and I was banking on that whole day to help. Now it did, but again….sick! It’s not easy to studying when you feel that horrible. And if you’re wondering, the illness had progressed to more soreness in my throat, more sneezing, more snot, and now a headache. Advil, you don’t do shit!
I go to sleep really early for me. 12:30 AM. Yeah that’s right. That’s how tired I was. But I still wanted to get some more studying in. So I set my alarm for 8:45. I fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow and wake up 5 minutes before the alarm is set to go off. Perfect. I’m up when I want and don’t have to hear that motherfucking beep. I hate that damn thing. I study for another hour and then give myself a review. I know the stuff. I was ready, but had another hour to kill. So I went and took and really nice, long, hot shower. It felt good. I get out, dry off my oh so sexy body, and kill some time before class. I finally head over, get the test, and shouldn’t have been surprised at it, but I was. I honestly can’t tell you how I did because I knew the material, but she’s annoying professors who doesn’t know how to write a fucking test. This is an abnormal psych class. One of the questions went something like “A patient suffers a blow to the head. Do you:” and the options weren’t what procedure you give them, but instead the names of the guys who invented the fucking procedures. What the fuck is that?! Who cares?!?! Lady, are you honestly trying to tell me that you have been in a situation when you said “This man needs a Freudian approach!” She’s a fucking therapist herself and I’m pretty sure she is still sees regular patients. Why do schools believe that just because a person has a PhD, and actually do the job that the course is about means they can teach it? In almost every single class I’ve had with a class like that, the professor sucks. This class is no different. I can’t learn the material from your lecturing alone. You actually have to give a shit. Clearly you don’t. Bitch.
So that was Friday. The week was over, my illness was not. I felt horrible. I spend the day watching DvDs with my roommates, but I was so out of it. DD and Sarah showed up to watch some with us, and they probably saw just how fucked up I looked. At least I guess they did. I was that out of it. I just held my head up to watch the screen and that was it. That night was over and I went to sleep feeling like I wasn’t going to wake up. Instead it was just the opposite. From the time I got into bed from the time I woke up the next day was about 9 and a half hours. But I probably only slept for 8 of them. I kept waking up in the middle of the night. That always happens to me when I’m really sick, and I hate it. It’s like my body doesn’t want me to sleep through it. Fucking body.
Saturday! A day off right? Wrong! DD’s birthday. Gotta go out. Gotta celebrate. She’s 22! Wo-hooo! Now, I could have skipped it. She knew I was sick. I was definitely at my worst that day. My head hurt, I was sneezing like crazy, my voice was shot and sounded like I was screaming the day before. Whatever I had must have found it’s way into my spine or back muscles because my lower back was in some of the worst pain I had ever felt and it wouldn’t go away no matter how I sat or stood. Only if I lied down. So sure, I could have said I was sorry and skipped out, but she’s my friend. I don’t want to do that. I want to be there for her even if it is at my own physical sacrifice. I’m a sucker that way. My friends are important to me. Oh well. I go out, I’m fairly quiet (for me anyway), and I get through dinner well enough…aside from the really embarrassing, but also really funny spilling my soda all over my pants. I just sat there and laughed at it because yeah, that fucking ridiculous.
Dinner is over and it was like 8:45ish I think and I was wearing out already. I muscle through some stuff at the mall’s pet store, but then they all start talking about going for drinks somewhere. I couldn’t do it. I needed to go. It wasn’t the cold. I could deal with that. Sneezing and a headache isn’t shit to me. But my back…fuck. That is just not good times. It hurt a lot. Aside from the time I actually threw it out, it was the worst back pain I ever had.
I get a ride back to my apartment, thanked the gods that the party Harry told me he was throwing didn’t happen (at least not here), filled a huge glass with water, got a bag of pretzels, went into my room, lied in bed, and watched TV for 3 hours. I was sick, not tired. I was up until about 2AM and went to sleep. I woke a half a dozen more times through the night, and when morning came (yeah I actually woke up in the morning naturally this time) I felt a bit better, but not much. That meant something though. Saturday was the worst day, Sunday was bad but not as bad. It meant the illness was going down.
So Sunday I get a ride home and just lounge the whole time. I played some games on my computer and watched the Mets open their season against the Cardinals. Mets creamed them. Good. I like the Mets. Then I go to sleep in the bed in my room. Not in the basement where I usually sleep at home. I don’t sleep in my room there. Not comfortable. I’ve slept in the basement since we moved in that house summer of ‘05. It’s so much nicer and quieter down there, but unfortunately my Aunt, Uncle, and cousin were visiting and they had taken over the basement during that time. Bastards! So I sleep in that room and it was weird, but I dealt with it. Finally didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, but wish I had because I had a totally fucking weird dream that had to do with DD (and no, I will not tell you what it was!).
I wake up at exactly 12:35 SWEET! Why? Yankees Opener! I force myself out of bed even though I could have fallen back to sleep for another hour, but I’m not missing the first pitch. No fucking way. I get down stairs, the house is empty (good), I crash on the couch, and turn on the pre-game. Baseball season is back. First thing that brought a genuine smile to my face in weeks. Seeing Andy Pettitte announced and run onto the field with his 46 jersey again. That should make anyone happy. Well…except the opposing team I guess.
Bottom line. I’m finally coming down. It’s been 6 whole days of this cold. I still feel some of it, but I’m not near death anymore. Man that was a long one wasn’t it? If you read the whole thing, I’m fucking impressed, but don’t think for a second that I’m going back to proof read it. Just deal with whatever spelling or grammatical errors I got!
