Being sick in college sucks
March 21, 2020
It all started Saturday night. I noticed I was slightly feverish, but I decided it was simply because we nearly froze to death at Galantis (a music concert), and I had the flu or whatever. Ok, this shall pass, I told myself. It did not. The next three days I developed cold sweats and a pounding headache.
On Wednesday, it had gotten so bad I could barely stand. Delirious and dying, on many occasions I tried to urinate but could barely walk. In the bathroom, as the stream escaped my body, I felt my physical form sway away from the toilet bowl, but with immense willpower I managed to orient myself—MILLISECONDS from disaster. After yet another day of waking up to a horrendous quality of life, I decided this could NOT go on for longer. Furthermore, I believe I was suffering brain damage as I could barely read or do homework.
I actually could not bring myself to leave the bed on Monday, so in conclusion, I hadn’t showered for two days. In hindsight this was disgusting, but necessary, as my weak and feeble body would not be able to support my sickly form in the dorm shower. I texted my mom about my current situation, and she was convinced I had the coronavirus and had to go to the health center NOW. IMMEDIATELY. In secret disagreement with her diagnosis, I called the health center at 8 am, informing them that I was not working properly and promptly set an appointment at 12:30 pm.
After 45 minute of incremental naps sprinkled with bouts of moaning (sorry Hosanna, my dear roommate), 11:45 am rolled around. I remained in my bed of sickness, marinating in a pool of sweat. No. I was stronger than this silly virus. I will rise. I pulled myself up, a sheen of sweat covering my forehead. Clambering out into the streets, I walked what felt like the length of the Boston marathon to reach the bus stop, and boarded the NYU shuttle. Of course, I tried to act as healthy as possible. With the unfortunate outbreak of COVID-19 in combination with my ethnicity, tensions ran high and I did not want to get jumped and beaten.
The beautiful sexy amazing NYU bus dropped me off in front of the health center, and I entered. After being led around like a clueless Sims character, I was promptly offered service. It seemed serious because I was forced to stay for 1.5 hours until my temperature went down. I was also forced to drink water until I felt pregnant because apparently I was rather dehydrated, and finally offered penicillin.
Fast forward 3 days later I was feeling 10 times better. Along with the penicillin I was told to eat yoghurt, as it was rich in probiotics, and I discovered a wondrous side effect of the yoghurt: exceptionally smooth bowel movements. Consumption of Greek yoghurt became a tradition, and the last couple of weeks have been smooth sailing, to say the least.