(no subject)

[eighthphase]

Yesterday I woke up a bit sniffly but otherwise fine, and I chalked it up to allergies. "That's okay, I'll just take some benadryl before I leave." Well, I forgot to do that (though it turned out that we didn't have any, so that was just as well), but figured that it would probably pass as usual. (Spoilers: It didn't.)

I ate chocolate sundae pie and red velvet pi in precalculus, along with doing all of one problem, and had a slice of pizza in journalism. But by then it was too late. I had not gotten better at all and had, in fact, gotten worse. I felt mildly feverish and several people commented that my colour was off. Still, I resolved to stay at least until lunch, if only so that I didn't have to go up to the office and have my attendance clerk tell me that I was perfectly fine when it was completely obvious that I wasn't (this has happened to me more than once).

Once the lunch bell rang, though, I got out of there as fast as I possibly could.

I walked home, completely miserable, then collapsed onto my bed and kicked the cat out of my room, still thinking my problems were mostly allergies (though by that time I had the sinking feeling that it might have been something else). Mum got home surprisingly early, bestowing upon me the gifts of benadryl and sweet tea, which I accepted eagerly.

The benadryl didn't really make it any easier for me to breathe, though I did fall asleep for about five hours. That was when I knew it wasn't allergies.

So mum went out to get me some cold medicine and tissues, then again to get me something to eat (she could have done it in one trip but, for some reason, chose not to). I took the Nyquil, ate, and then fell back asleep and slept very poorly.

I don't think I've woken up properly since, but I suppose it could just be the cold making me all foggy-headed. But that's okay, because I've got a cat and a new jacket.