Being sick puts things in perspective. It turns out, I'm just a weak biological being, infected with some parasite. Something is living (well, not "living" as its a virus, but reproducing and causing me problems) in my body. Freaky.
I can remember thinking that I could deal with being sick, and just muscle through it. Like, force myself to go on with life, and nothing would be a problem. But honestly, putting that theory to the test, I had to leave my lab early for fear of vomitting in my petri dishes.
So I go to the health clinic here on campus, which is great, because nothing beats waiting in a room full of sick people for two hours to see a doctor for 10 minutes. Then I manage to get told that I have VIRAL GASTROENTERITIS, and that, even worse, I'm not getting any drugs for it. Bummer. Instead, the nurse tells me that I'm not allowed to eat food for the first 24 hours, then to slowly increase from... jello to... steamed plain rice... and melba toast (if I'm feeling EXOTIC).
Joy. Joy to being sick.
So anyways, there's a virus making me sick in my intestines. I can't eat so I have no energy. I have no energy so I have no work done. I have no work done so I'm feeling shitty about that on top of being sick. Fuck gastroenteritis. Fuck feeling shitty.
Oh, on the plus side of things, I had my first article published in the McGill Daily last thursday. It was about fatty food cravings. That's pretty rockin'.
