"It is not the ctitic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

~Theodore Roosevelt

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

A Week of Death

~A family is a unit composed not only of children but of men, women, an occasional animal, and the common cold.
~Ogden Nash

So much for blogging every day. I was sick from last Sunday until yesterday... about eight days. It was horrible. I don't remember much of the last week. Like the two tests I took-of which I know I failed one and probably the other too, the paper I failed, the classes I took notes in... honestly, I looked at the notes for British lit from last week... my handwriting looks drugged.

I had times where I'd just sit and shake I was SO cold-in sweats with a sweatshirt and wrapped in blankets. And you know how it was bitter cold? Ya, I didn't know what everyone was talking about for a day cuz I was sweating outside. I was achy all over and my head felt like it was being crushed between those metal plates they use to crush cars.

And I've never been so hungry all the time. My stomach felt like a hollowed out watermelon and yet if I drank a sip of water I felt like I was gonna have to run to the bathroom to throw up. Everything was a blur and it took all my strength to do anything. I managed to shower everyday (not trusting the tub enough to bath) and dry my hair sitting on my bedroom floor and leaning against my bed.

Todays the first day in over a week I've worn all my make up. I walked across campus for four days in baggy shirts, with only base on, my hair messily pulled to the side, sweating and panting... and I really didn't care what anyone thought. It was pathetic. My brother brought me groceries, my roommates offered to help, my boyfriend came up for a night and brought me a smoothie, and finally my dad came to take me home for three days.

So grateful to everyone who helped me. My mom made me eat every few hours and poured me baths and made me take medicine. They did my laundry and got me the food I was craving when I started to feel better and let me lay on the couch and watch movies and TV episodes. And now I'm back at school, dying in my make up homework, three tests this week, a paper, a presentation next week, getting enough sleep, eating enough, and generally dealing with going to classes I'm not qualified for and surviving the first round of midterms.
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