I went to student health today. I try so hard to avoid that place, but I very much want to be healthy for the weekend, so I went. It's not that I'm afraid of doctors - I'm in the wrong profession if that's the case. But I spent so much time in doctors offices as a kid, whether because of bronchitis or pneumonia or just the asthma, that I eventually developed this idea that I go to the doctor too much. And I did then, no kid should be sick that often - but the idea stuck around and matured into the most peculiar fear of becoming a hypochondriac. Go figure.

However, when I woke up making seal noises for the second day in a row, I decided it was a dandy occasion to face that old fear and get myself some happy drugs. That's the best thing about student health: the pharmacy is so cheap and convenient that no matter what you have, the doctors will come up with something to make you feel better. None of this "It's just a virus, I can't help you. Make sure you drink enough water." Since when are antibiotics the only thing pharmacies dispense? Oh no, it's "it's a virus so I can't make it go away any faster, but here's some nice cough suppressant and a fancy inhaler to make you feel better in the mean time." Oh yeah, that's my kind of physician!

It strikes me as odd that I'm saying that, since I absolutely hate taking medications of any kind. I avoid them as much as I can; I'm firmly convinced that if I can go without and not endanger my life as a result, I'm ultimately better off. Is that a surprising attitude for a pharmacist? I don't know, I think it actually comes from studying all those drugs and knowing exactly what they do to you in return for making you feel better. Being sick, though, brings out my Id, I think. I become the number one fan of instant gratification, and I'd ingest my own left sock if you convinced me it would make me feel even a tad better. So, I'm happily taking the nasty drugs and telling myself I'm not actually feeling twice as bad as I did last night, because the drugs are making me better. And I complained about Mom's denial.

Pah, I can't believe I can type this much nonsense about a stupid cold! I really am wallowing in self-pity tonight. Somewhere deep within my psyche, Id is throwing a major temper tantrum right about now. Bless you Freud, for that sublimely bizarre concept, it makes my life so much more enjoyable when I can recognize the behavior of my three-fold self. I should never have taken that psych class.

If I were more alert right now I'd think of something really profound to say, to make up for all this whining. However, I'm not at all alert, and I'm cold and tired and cranky on top of it. So tonight, we'll just go without profound (and exactly how does that make this different from any other night, you ask?) and I am going to bed. My dear, dear down comforter is calling to me. "KJ," it is saying. "KJ, you are tired and cold and cranky, I will make you feel better!" And that last bit, friends, is how we know it's bedtime. Next thing you know I will be eating my left sock, and none of us wants to see that.