Woe Is Me

For the past several days I've had a severe cold/minor flu.  While I was lying in bed feeling sorry for myself I came to a painful realization:  I'm a terrible sick person.  I'd like to think that I'm the kind of person who can suffer in silence and nobly carry on with my daily duties, but I'm just not.  

On second thought, there may be a downside to this whole play-with-pain mentality.  No one would recognize how truly noble and long-suffering I am, which would be a great loss for the world at large.  To remedy the egregious wrong of being overlooked, I would eventually have to collapse in my weakened state.  My family and friends would then be deeply worried and rush me to the hospital.  Possible declaration of love from a handsome doctor aside, medical treatment is expensive and bankruptcy is not a good look for me.  Besides, if family dramas have taught me anything it's that a medical crisis will ease the tension of an unhappy family but will create it in a happy family.  Since my family is a pretty happy one, the stress of my illness would inevitably tear us apart.  My parents would blame themselves, and one of my sisters would blame me for not taking care of myself before my cold turned into pneumonia and/or scarlet fever.  Fights would erupt about childhood grudges and who ruined whose baby doll or "accidentally" killed the pet hamster, and before you know it I'm all alone with my debt and my handsome doctor.

I could never do that to my family.  It's better for everyone that I continue to whine and act like a spoiled baby.  Please forgive the shortness of this entry, but I have to go make myself some soup and take a nap.

How sick I actually am

How sick I'm acting