In high school, being sick was awesome. I couldn’t get enough common colds and stomach viruses. In fact, even when I wasn’t sick, I pretended to be every once in a while. Every moment spent being unhealthy meant excused time to sleep in and extend due dates. Each illness produced a magical piece of paper that, when folded twice and given to the right lady at the main office, meant a free ride on the train away from stress and responsibility.
I’ve been told that once you acquire a job, the company that employs you will pay you to be sick. Not only that, but you don’t even need a note. A simple phone call gets you $25 an hour for watching game show reruns all day. Better yet, if you get really sick, to the point where you couldn’t get off the couch to avoid watching Oprah even if you wanted to, the govern­ment will pay you.
Now that high school is over, but I haven’t found a job yet, I seem to be in a strange neither-land between childhood and the real world of being an adult. Here, being sick is about the worst thing that can happen to you. There aren’t any mothers around to write notes, and I’m certainly not making any money even when I’m healthy. Professors aren’t nearly as forgiving as high school teachers, and rarely consider extending a deadline or resche­duling a test for a student. You can’t even go to the nurse without filling out paperwork. In college, no one can hear you sneeze.
Not only does winter time bring us shortened daylight hours, dangerous ice traps and frigid temperatures, it turns a college campus into a breeding ground for all kinds of contagious germs. Worse yet, this phenomenon hits us when it hurts most. Right after the groundhog over in Punxsu­tawney predicted an early spring, and we enjoyed a day or two of walking to class without our heavy winter coats, disease set in.
In my part of town, everyone I knew started to come down with a nasty cold. Even my own house became a war zone between viruses and white blood cells. When I tried to escape to neutral territory, all I could hear were the chilling echoes of coughs and sneezes throughout the Union and the DCC. On top of that, rumors have it that a debilitating stomach virus is spreading like wild fire through Freshman Hill, moving a whole lot of stomach acid out of stomachs and into our sewer systems.
So, as I sit here surrounded by ancient herbal remedies and boxes promising to reduce the duration of the common cold, I wonder when the time will come that I can breathe free air once again. Between job interviews, exams, and a visit from a special someone for the holiday of hearts this past weekend, I’ve had too much at stake to risk being infected. Maybe one day we’ll have mandatory quarantining or vac­cines for every possible disease, but until then, I wish all of you luck in avoiding plague and paranoia this season.
