Sunday, April 13, 2003

I am so sick. This is not what I need at this juncture of the season. I have essays to write, to grade, chapbooks to design, novels to critique before next weekend, and classes to teach and attend. I feel like I've got golfballs clenched between my jaws. My throat feels like its in a vice. Jackie made me three dinners, put them in the refrigerator, and then left to see if she could cop some antibiotics. She did, but they aren't doing anything. That's ok, though, because while she was out, she bought me these really cool pants and a shirt and a matching hat. What an angel. My mother came over with more medicine and made me eat something, but it hurts to swallow even air. So now I have to go to the doctor tomorrow and hope he'll give me free samples of medicine to get rid of whatever this is. Ugh, I hate not having health insurance.

Can't sleep, but am totally exhausted. Can't eat, but I'm famished. Picture me distaught like a victim of heatstroke and malnourishment on a deserted island. Yes, I'm over the top. But damn it, so is this virus or whatever the hell it is.


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