The Starting Line: Where is my Chicken Soup?
Ah, we are finally creeping close to one of the best times of the year! Intense rivalry games are about to pan out on football fields across America (Go Yale! Go OSU!), juicy stuffed turkeys are on the cusp of popping out of ovens everywhere, and Dora the Explorer is preparing to menace us all as she floats down 42nd street as part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
The air is crisp, the dorms are abuzz with “I’m going home!” and my suitemate and I are—feverish. Literally.
What started off as the both of us coughing slightly like dainty ladies a week ago has morphed into some kind of psycho illness that left me hacking and feverish, making me miss a.) Kelly Cutrone giving an inspirational speech during this leadership workshop I was supposed to attend and b.) A sikk (but not sick like me) tailgate before the Yale-Princeton game.
Here’s my question: Why isn’t Mommy here to deliver me ice water and bring me up dinner from the kitchen to my room? Answer: Because I’m a freaking adult now! And I need to suck it up! Or else I’ll turn into, like, Lindsay Lohan or something and wallow in my own existence until bodyguards come and carry me everywhere I need to be.
So as a mature woman (pah, let’s be honest), I have been attempting to take care of myself as best as possible. After getting the whining, calls to my mother for some much needed sympathy and more whining, of course. I have been sleeping. I have been stealing grapefruit and oranges like crazy from the dining halls. I have been drinking lots of water (clear pee is the goal, you guys). I have been skipping class (…I don’t wanna infect other people).
And none of it is really helping.
The one thing that I found that is true is this: my illnesses last longer in college. And I think this has to do with the dining hall system vs. having a kitchen downstairs in your house where your mom makes food. The dining hall is a five minute trek in the cold away from my dorm room. That, in combination with the fact that it’s already dark outside, our dining halls have been serving excessive amounts of squash lately, and having a fever destroys your appetite, means that I have not been eating a lot. Which is good for my freshman fifteen, but terrible for the whole “getting healthy” thing.
It also doesn’t help that I’m in close (very close) quarters with another diseased person who keeps passing her germs to my side of the room. Part of me wants to Clorox the room every day…but a bigger and sicker part of me doesn’t want to get out of bed and muster up the energy to do so.
Regardless of all that, I’m slowly healing. Painfully slowly. The coughs are beginning to sound a little less morbid and now my voice is raspy, so I kind of sound like Miley Cyrus. And that’s pretty cool. Plus, I’m seeing my mom in 3 days, which should jump start this healing process instantaneously. She’s already promised to have the soup and movies ready, which means I’ll be healthy as an ox (no, I don’t get that cliche either) by the time Thanksgiving dinner rolls around.