I live in a college dorm room, and I have for the past two years and will continue to for the next two years. It's safe to say that living in a dorm is pretty much my way of life. And lowkey, I love it. A lot of people at my small college are unsatisfied that we don't get apartments until senior year (if we're lucky), but I am so satisfied living in my small concrete box. It feels like home and it is my favorite place on campus (should I be concerned about that? Maybe?).
But a side effect of living in a dorm is the fact that you are essentially living in giant cesspool of germs. It doesn't matter how many Clorox wipes you take to your door-knob, light switches, and desk tops--you will be taken down by some form of illness every couple months (probably more, if you don't have a robust immune system. I fall in the latter category). And typically it's what doctors call "The Crap". When you're diagnosed with The Crap all you can do is lay in bed, tweet about how miserable you are, and watch the entire new season of How To Get Away With Murder (am I speaking from experience? Yes.). If you're feeling ambitious you can down ibuprofen and tylenol every three hours (switch them off every three hours, I don't want to be responsible for any deaths).
I have been taken down by The Crap almost consistently every few weeks. And I have accepted that I perpetually live on the edge of having a runny nose and a sinus headache. When you look up college student on Urban Dictionary you'll see a picture of me looking like the walking dead.
Recently, I thought I came down with The Crap. I loaded up with ibuprofen, pre-charged my laptop, and fluffed my pillows. I was prepared. Until it got to the point where I couldn't even swallow mashed potatoes. I had the inkling that there was something more than The Crap, which meant I had to put in the effort to go to Urgent Care in the town fifteen minutes away, which means I had less time to watch Netflix (not ideal). They ultimately told me I had The Crap, I didn't believe them, but decided to suffer for a few more days living on smoothies and coffee. But when I couldn't eat solid food four days after The Crap diagnosis I made an appointment at our campus' Health Services because my mom made me. Five minutes into the appointment the doctor told me that my tonsils looked "nasty" (her words, not mine) and that I had tonsillitis. I got some medication, which I was way too excited about. Antibiotics equal recovery in my head. That's what you get for growing up in Rochester (which should be renamed Mayo Clinic, to be honest), I suppose.
To be frank, having a real illness highkey made me excited. I could actually miss class for a reason, had a reason not to work out, and could justify being lazy all day. And you bet your ass I milked my tonsillitis for a week. But, to be fair I felt like living crap for that week, I was not making it up. I just reaped the benefits of being sick (Ella Life Tip #1: If you're sick, milk the heck out of it. You're only severely sick every once in a while).
I am doing much better now, and can certainly eat solid food. And, boy, let me tell you: I missed popcorn and barbecue chips. And I certainly took the ability to speak and swallow, even liquids, without feeling like a rusty fork was being dragged along my tonsils. -1000/10 would recommend tonsillitis. -1098098/10 would do it again.
Comments