Solitude and Sickness

            I have an immune system of steel. Seriously, I can go months without an illness. But when I do get sick, I am critically ill and out for at least two or three days. I got sick over Spring Break (go figure), and thankfully I was home. But the end of Spring Break hit too soon, and now I’m recovering at school. That’s a brutal transition, let me tell ya, and I’ve come up with the top 5 reasons why being sick away from home is quite possibly one of the worst feelings in life.

(1)  No one reminds you when to take your medication

I can’t tell you how many times this week I have started to feel terrible, and I think “When was the last time I popped an Advil?” and it was yesterday.

(2)  No one listens to your complaints

Yeah, being sick sucks. I’ve had plenty of people ask what they do to help, can they bring me anything, etc. But they don’t actually care how you’re doing. They don’t ask how your head feels, or if you’re fever has gone down. They have their own lives to keep them busy. They don’t remember the minute details of yours.

(3)  No one checks in on you

If you want to lay in your bed for 48 hours straight, go for it. No one is going to notice. Except if you have things you’re supposed to be at. Then they pay attention. No one asks if you want something to drink, or what you’ve had to eat. You go get it if you’re hungry or thirsty.

(4)  It becomes extraordinarily difficult to tell how sincere people are

Random people can tell you’re sick, and they’re constantly telling you to let them know if you need something. These people are just popping out of the woodwork- how do you know if they’re being genuine or not? You’re also in your medication-induced haze, and that makes it even harder.

(5)  You’re alone for extended periods of time

Some people might like this. I don’t. I need to spend time with other people and be busy. I don’t like being left alone with my thoughts. So when I’m left alone to wallow in my germs and my only thought is how my head feels like it’s constantly being slammed in a door, life’s pretty miserable.

            Maybe I was a spoiled kid and now I’m just a spoiled and whiny one, but my mom did all these things for me. Fed me, talked to me, brought me pain pills. It’s hard to leave home and go back to a place where people offer to help, but no one who comes close to being your mom. That’s why I will argue any day that being dreadfully ill and alone is one of the worst things to ever happen to me.