Honey, bring momma her pills

    Well, I did it. It finally happened. I caved. I got sick. Amidst all of the Nichol protests, the sit-ins and the candlelight singing, I was asleep. I had to find substitute instructors for fitness classes, didn’t go to academic classes (those that weren’t cancelled) and, much to my dismay, couldn’t show my solidarity.

    p. Instead, I’ve been sweating, shivering, hydrating, eating, sleeping, drooling, vegging, reading, popping pills and driving my poor roommate crazy. “Get momma the Brita.” “Bring momma her pills.” “Momma’s eyes can’t take the overhead light.” It’s all very Gypsy Rose.

    p. There’s something kind of comforting, however, in having her around to be surrogate mother. She encourages pizza eating and binge sleeping just like mom, but without all the guilt of the morning after.

    p. Yes, being sick in the company of my best friend is kind of enjoyable. I shirk all of my responsibilities, eat what I want, demand menial tasks be taken care of and have no remorse for being a cranky child. Despite my facade of being the social butterfly, I hate interacting with people. Being sick is the perfect way to avoid any unwanted human interaction. Furthermore, I have carte blanche to be cranky and sour to almost anyone. I wonder how long this will last.

    p. The Student Health Center prescription for wellness is to take three days off from school. They’ve stopped writing notes for students to show professors and, luckily, they’ve stopped insisting everyone is pregnant. They’re so overrun with sickies that this bug almost seems to be an epidemic. Now, with students protesting in close quarters, one can only imagine the second wave of illnesses.

    p. Unfortunately, the best way to prevent illness is exactly what it takes to cure oneself. I find it incredibly difficult to take a personal day to rest, and now I’m being forced to remove myself from all responsibility (in theory) for three days or longer. If we could only just teach ourselves to say no to commitment, to eat better (I count pineapple pizza as an excellent source of vitamin C) and to be more realistic with our bodies, these recuperation periods wouldn’t last so long.

    p. After last week’s column dedicated to fashion, I feel terrible trudging around in an outfit I’ve worn for two days straight. I wish there existed a universal sign for “sick” to explain away the pajama pants, sorority shirts, ratty hair, skin problem, Croc ensemble that I can’t seem to climb out of. At least the shirt is green and gold, lest any news cameras catch a student not showing Tribe Pride.

    p. The shame about an early-semester flu epidemic is that it prevents people from getting into a routine. I have no rhythm, no standard operating procedure for second semester even after a month of school. I’m a little concerned that after a week of Nyquil-induced comas and ill-kempt hair, this may seem more normal than anything else.

    p. Hydrate, keep sick friends quarantined, sleep for eight hours and take full advantage of the Dominos two-for-Tuesday offer — with pineapple.

    p. Charlotte Savino is a Confusion Corner columnist. She’s just happy she’s not pregnant.


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