Aside from Vince (that's the name of this pesky brain tumor I get to haul around with me wherever I go), I don't really get sick very often. I've been pretty lucky, healthwise. Any injuries have been fairly minor, and most were caused by my own stupidity and/or stubbornness (remember that broken leg in Thailand incident, anyone??). As a kid I had my tonsils out when I was just a toddler and while some people struggle with that surgery my biggest worry was that I had to miss preschool on the day we were learning how to write the letter 'J,' and how would I ever be able to write my name if I didn't learn to write a 'J?'
Growing up, I never got fevers. This might sound like a good thing, but the problem with that is that other people tend to base how sick you are on your temperature alone. I clearly remember sitting in the office of my elementary school, where the school secretary doubled as the school nurse, and despite the fact that she had watched me puke my guts out twice she said unsympathetically, "You don't have a fever so you can't be that sick. Go back to class." I mean, this was 4th grade! I still loved school! I had Mr. Fahringer for a teacher, who is still to this day one of the greatest teachers I have ever met. It wouldn't be until 7th grade Algebra class that I would catch onto the whole "fake an illness to get out of class" thing. But, no matter. Without a fever, you were just left to suffer.
This week, however, I have come to understand that having a fever really does, in fact, make you a gazillion times sicker. I've had one since Sunday, and it is by far the worst I have ever felt. Rapidly alternating between freezing cold and sweating-my-ass-off hot, coughing, sneezing, feeling dizzy, and puking the whole time...and when my fever would spike really high, I would become delirious and end up trying to convince Ant that we couldn't possibly get him a pink bunny as a pet because (1) they aren't machine washable and I don't want to have to take it to the dry cleaners all the time, and (2) while I personally had never heard of anyone being devoured in their sleep by a pink bunny, I also had never seen proof that pink bunnies didn't eat humans, either, and getting eaten by a pink bunny is just not a chance I want to take. I also had a few terrifying hours where I was convinced that the bed was slowly raising itself off of the floor and was planning to kill me by crushing me against the ceiling. I kept asking Ant to help me put the bed back on the floor, and of course he had no idea what I was talking about and would instead remind me to drink some juice/water/gatorade/tea, to which I would reply, "I can't reach it because the bed is too high!!" Finally, on Wednesday night I rolled over and mumbled, "I think I need a hospital," and Ant, who is almost as sick as I am, was on his feet and made it happen instantly. Let me tell you guys, he's been an absolute saint.
So, we spent Wednesday night in the ER. Fun times. They told me my temperature and I immediately thought, "What a bunch of morons. If that were my temperature I'd be dead!" Then I realized that Korea is part of the "rest of the world" and therefore operates in celsius instead of fahrenheit. It still meant nothing, though, because I had (still have) no idea what the normal body temp in degrees celsius is. Whatever it was, it was high enough that they immediately shoved two huge ice packs under my arms to try to cool me down. Overall, it was a pretty painless evening. There was talk of chest and stomach x-rays, but since I don't have my Alien Registration Card yet they would have been too expensive so I refused them. I'm now on 7 different kinds of meds, and feeling only slightly better. :-(
I wish I had more exciting things to tell you guys, but I've literally done nothing but sleep this week. My next post will be a little less whiny, I promise!