I Hate Viruses

I hate viruses.

I have always hated them, ever since I read Explorabook when I was little and it showed those picture of them, these dark little mushroomish peg-like things, attaching themselves in massive unfair numbers (even though they were small) to a cute little defenseless bacterium, one of those orange cute fuzzy ones, sucking out its force of life and injecting it with their spawn, their spawn of DEATH!!! . . . and I was like, "Dad, is that bacteria going to die?" and he's like, "Yeah, it's going to explode with their babies in a second. They basically turned it into a virus itself, a virus breeding ground." I felt so bad for the cute little orange bacterium, which had been hanging around pens and such like that all day in the rest of the Explorabook, and now it was going to have to die . . . and that is always why I have hated viruses . . .

. . . also, because THEY DON'T DIE WHEN YOU GIVE THEM DRUGS!!!

GRRRRRR!!!

I have a fucking virus. Yeah, this isn't strep. It's a fucking, fucking, fucking damn virus, which means it WON'T FUCKING GO AWAY and I have to FUCKING LIVE WITH IT for another FUCKING LONG TIME, however the HELL LONG it takes it for it to just DIE!!!

. . . which should be a long time, considering my immune system is shot since all I've eaten since last Wednesday is a few random pieces of watermelon, like three popcorn cakes, and some mushrooms at dinner last night. They weighed me on the scale, and I weighed 118 pounds. THAT IS ALMOST TEN POUNDS LESS THAN WHAT I WEIGHED TWO WEEKS AGO AT MY PHYSICAL (and I hadn't been eating much that week, besides!)!!!!! I used to weigh 126 pounds, thereabout, and now it's only 118. I don't have an ounce of water in my body. There are no NUTRIENTS in my body. I have no VITAMINS in my body, and there is no way this open sore on the inside of my mouth is ever going to heal, and even if I can force something down my throat, it still stings in my mouth, too!!! I told Tory yesterday I thought my boobs were shrinking, and that my butt felt squishier than usual. I think it may actually be the case. I'm eating up my own body fat. Fun times . . .

The doctor was really mean, too. The nurse was young, like an intern or something, and she didn't swab my throat properly, so after twenty minutes this doctor lady comes in and redoes it and like freaking JAMS it down my throat so I gag and almost vomit all over her, even though I couldn't possibly have vomited since I had nothing in me. She said the initial swab came back negative but it wasn't done right so she had to double check. So the whole time (which took about twenty minutes, again, maybe even a half-hour), I was sitting in this hospital room, freezing (and I swear I still have a fever; the thermometer lies, or else my normal temperature is way off . . . I've never measured my temperature when I've felt normal, after all, lol . . . ), and telling myself that it had better be strep throat or else something else bacterial or else I was just going to die, go home and kill myself or allow myself to finish up the freaking course of starvation I had already gotten myself into.

So, naturally, I burst into tears when the doctor comes back in and tells me the test came back negative again. I was like, "Do you know what it is? Is there something I can do? Because, honestly, I cannot go on like this," . . . and it's true, I can't; I'm fucking miserable right now and I want to die.

So she gives me this nasty look, like I'm overreacting, which Mom did again to me in the car, yelling at me for looking like I've just been diagnosed with cancer than some viral throat complaint. The doctor told me to go buy some popsicles. Honest to God, that doesn't fool me. It's the same shit they told me when I got my tonsils out; believe me, I know. I had tonsilitis every year of my life until I was seven and finally got them taken out, and I've had strep at least eight times since then. It's a fucking lie, that whole ice-cream thing: Yeah, you get it, BUT YOU DON'T WANT TO EAT IT.

Seriously, I'd rather go through the whole burst-appendix thing. That was even pleasant, at times. After the blow-up, the most pain I got during the drainage process was a few bedsores, the occasional pressure in my abdomen that could be relieved by flatulence, and that pickline from hell, which wasn't even related to my actual ailment, either, lol . . .

So now I'm going to attempt their foolish remedies. At most, I'll at least get some liquid and sugar in me. Orange push-ups saved my life once . . .

I'm sorry to everyone (and, yeah, it really is EVERYONE, isn't it?) that I had to cancel plans with. I couldn't go to Shakescenes, I couldn't take Tory to Tae Kwon Do, I couldn't go shopping with Tiffany (and was Jessica going, too?), I couldn't have a movie night with Liz, I couldn't have Nichole and Kristina up today for the boat parade and fireworks, I couldn't do anything with Robert and Alice (I think I only disgusted Robert with my near-delirious and totally unchecked statements about the puddle of drool upon my pillow when he called, but I can barely even remember; I'm so tired and functionless right now), and I think my grandparents even all can't come up because I'm so sick and I might infect one of them, and it's one thing to battle EVIL VIRUSES OF DOOM as a ripe, young 18-year-old (even one who hasn't eaten in half a week), and quite another to as an elderly person.

Heh, anyone I haven't named want to make plans with me to back out of?

I Hate Viruses

I hate viruses.

I have always hated them, ever since I read Explorabook when I was little and it showed those picture of them, these dark little mushroomish peg-like things, attaching themselves in massive unfair numbers (even though they were small) to a cute little defenseless bacterium, one of those orange cute fuzzy ones, sucking out its force of life and injecting it with their spawn, their spawn of DEATH!!! . . . and I was like, "Dad, is that bacteria going to die?" and he's like, "Yeah, it's going to explode with their babies in a second. They basically turned it into a virus itself, a virus breeding ground." I felt so bad for the cute little orange bacterium, which had been hanging around pens and such like that all day in the rest of the Explorabook, and now it was going to have to die . . . and that is always why I have hated viruses . . .

. . . also, because THEY DON'T DIE WHEN YOU GIVE THEM DRUGS!!!

GRRRRRR!!!

I have a fucking virus. Yeah, this isn't strep. It's a fucking, fucking, fucking damn virus, which means it WON'T FUCKING GO AWAY and I have to FUCKING LIVE WITH IT for another FUCKING LONG TIME, however the HELL LONG it takes it for it to just DIE!!!

. . . which should be a long time, considering my immune system is shot since all I've eaten since last Wednesday is a few random pieces of watermelon, like three popcorn cakes, and some mushrooms at dinner last night. They weighed me on the scale, and I weighed 118 pounds. THAT IS ALMOST TEN POUNDS LESS THAN WHAT I WEIGHED TWO WEEKS AGO AT MY PHYSICAL (and I hadn't been eating much that week, besides!)!!!!! I used to weigh 126 pounds, thereabout, and now it's only 118. I don't have an ounce of water in my body. There are no NUTRIENTS in my body. I have no VITAMINS in my body, and there is no way this open sore on the inside of my mouth is ever going to heal, and even if I can force something down my throat, it still stings in my mouth, too!!! I told Tory yesterday I thought my boobs were shrinking, and that my butt felt squishier than usual. I think it may actually be the case. I'm eating up my own body fat. Fun times . . .

The doctor was really mean, too. The nurse was young, like an intern or something, and she didn't swab my throat properly, so after twenty minutes this doctor lady comes in and redoes it and like freaking JAMS it down my throat so I gag and almost vomit all over her, even though I couldn't possibly have vomited since I had nothing in me. She said the initial swab came back negative but it wasn't done right so she had to double check. So the whole time (which took about twenty minutes, again, maybe even a half-hour), I was sitting in this hospital room, freezing (and I swear I still have a fever; the thermometer lies, or else my normal temperature is way off . . . I've never measured my temperature when I've felt normal, after all, lol . . . ), and telling myself that it had better be strep throat or else something else bacterial or else I was just going to die, go home and kill myself or allow myself to finish up the freaking course of starvation I had already gotten myself into.

So, naturally, I burst into tears when the doctor comes back in and tells me the test came back negative again. I was like, "Do you know what it is? Is there something I can do? Because, honestly, I cannot go on like this," . . . and it's true, I can't; I'm fucking miserable right now and I want to die.

So she gives me this nasty look, like I'm overreacting, which Mom did again to me in the car, yelling at me for looking like I've just been diagnosed with cancer than some viral throat complaint. The doctor told me to go buy some popsicles. Honest to God, that doesn't fool me. It's the same shit they told me when I got my tonsils out; believe me, I know. I had tonsilitis every year of my life until I was seven and finally got them taken out, and I've had strep at least eight times since then. It's a fucking lie, that whole ice-cream thing: Yeah, you get it, BUT YOU DON'T WANT TO EAT IT.

Seriously, I'd rather go through the whole burst-appendix thing. That was even pleasant, at times. After the blow-up, the most pain I got during the drainage process was a few bedsores, the occasional pressure in my abdomen that could be relieved by flatulence, and that pickline from hell, which wasn't even related to my actual ailment, either, lol . . .

So now I'm going to attempt their foolish remedies. At most, I'll at least get some liquid and sugar in me. Orange push-ups saved my life once . . .

I'm sorry to everyone (and, yeah, it really is EVERYONE, isn't it?) that I had to cancel plans with. I couldn't go to Shakescenes, I couldn't take Tory to Tae Kwon Do, I couldn't go shopping with Tiffany (and was Jessica going, too?), I couldn't have a movie night with Liz, I couldn't have Nichole and Kristina up today for the boat parade and fireworks, I couldn't do anything with Robert and Alice (I think I only disgusted Robert with my near-delirious and totally unchecked statements about the puddle of drool upon my pillow when he called, but I can barely even remember; I'm so tired and functionless right now), and I think my grandparents even all can't come up because I'm so sick and I might infect one of them, and it's one thing to battle EVIL VIRUSES OF DOOM as a ripe, young 18-year-old (even one who hasn't eaten in half a week), and quite another to as an elderly person.

Heh, anyone I haven't named want to make plans with me to back out of?