Vaca Part I: Down With The Sickness

This is part one of a trilogy of blogs about my vacation this past week. In the middle there will also be a guest blog from Bundles of Bungalo speaking of his vacation with the lacrosse team to North Carolina. This first part of my trilogy is really graffic at times and probably not funny at all as its only real intention is to make people feel bad for me, enjoy.




I woke up Tuesday March 10th to my wonderful alarm that I can never really be mad at when awoken by. Little did I know the song was foreshadowing the tribulations I would go through in the coming days. I arose, dressed and headed off to class feeling a little dizzy and my throat feeling a bit swollen and sore. I wrote it off as the ill effects of lack of sleep. Sitting in class I found it very hard to stay awake and my condition began to worsen. I struggled harder and harder to stay awake but I kept dozing off as if it were Mr. Wright’s high school philosophy class. When class ended I went straight to my room and went back to bed. I awoke several times and each time I did, my throat felt significantly worse. My pillow was soaked with drool and swallowing was near impossible. I did not get out of my bed for the next 28 hours. In the middle of my bed ridden stage, Boss and Colleen paid me a visit; I was supposed to go out to eat with them and Sars but I was in no condition to do so. This made Colleen furious and she punched me a few times like she was The Rock delivering a little Shake Rattle and Roll, but not even threat of the peoples elbow could have got me to move at this point.

I finally did get out of bed to answer my phone around 2pm on Wednesday March 11th. It was Chelsea calling, and she convinced me to seek help and go to the campus health services office. I threw on a sweat shirt and stumbled my way over to health services. I first had to deal with a nurse who took a swab of my throat, meaning she gagged the hell out of me with a massive cue tip. After about a half hour of waiting and suffering in the doctor’s office the doctor finally entered. This doctor however seemed to be very confused as to what his profession was, as most of the time he seemed to think he was supposed to be a terrible stand up comedian. Once he finally stopped making horrible jokes and tried out the whole doctor thing he eventually concluded that I had strep throat. He hooked me up with a prescription and sent me out the door. This of course meant that I had to walk a mile and across extensive traffic to CVS to pick up my aforementioned prescription. In my ill and groggy state my journey to CVS and my crossing of very busy streets somewhat resembled George Costanza’s attempt to cross the street with the Frogger machine. I somehow mentioned to dodge Daunte Stallworth’s Bentley as it swerved it way down the street, another man was not so fortunate.

Somehow I did make it though, don’t ask me how. I arrived back at my room with what at the time I believed to be the cure to my ailments. Bungalo brought me some delicious raspberry yogurt, I managed to eat it, and I took my medicine. About an hour later I layed down in bed only to immediately jump up, run to the bathroom, and share the yogurt I had recently eaten with the first sink I could get to. I puked 17 more times throughout the night and each time was worse and worse. In between spilling my innards, I called my mother and she decided she would come pick me up around 9am. I now knew what time I had to make it too. I just had to make it to 9am. It turned out to be a lot harder than it sounds. Later in the night I began spouting the main ingredient of my circulatory system out of my mouth, I’m no doctor but I don’t believe that is a good thing. Phone in hand I seriously considered calling an ambulance because at this point I was in serious fear that I might actually die, but I knew I just needed to make it to 9am. By the time my mother arrived I was standing in my room, having not slept in almost a full day, and thrown up 18 times, needless to say I was as groggy as a Mortal Kombat character having lost two straight rounds and waiting for the other guy to finish him.

My mom took me home and I began to feel much better. However the next time I took my medicine about ten minutes later I was puking again. After that I was fine until later that night when I took it again and what do you know I was puking again. At this point it was clear that the doctor was an assassin who believed me to be Rasputin and was trying to kill me, little did he know the only way to kill Rasputin is to chain him up and drown him. To sum this up I got real medicine, it worked, my mommy made me a milkshake, I got all healed, and the real vacation began.

I love you too and I’ll talk to you soon,
Brendan McCarthy