I Always Thought Mano y Mano Meant Fighting....

Now I know it just means lots of Mononucleosis. That's what I have. Lot's of it. So basically what that means is I have been receiving phone calls from my mother about every three hours threatening me to go to sleep or she'll make me go to sleep. Whatever that means. If I end up dead in a river bed... you know who to suspect. LYNNE. My grandma also told me that if I didn't take care of myself I would have to get an IV hooked up to take care of me. So I have that family support thing going on really strong.

Basically, what happened is... I've been sick for about two weeks: really tired, not able to concentrate, fevers, cold-like symptoms, really thirsty... lots of bad stuff. So finally, my mom is like... Sarah, you're going to the doctor, and if you can't get in to the doctor you are going to her PA. Well, I'm not a very picky person... but I HATE to go to the doctor. I told my mom that if I was going to the doctor I was going to see a doctor... So I did. My mom felt the need to drive to Lincoln (my grandma though she should come too) and we all went to the doctor together. After an hour of filling out paper work and waiting, it was my time. Carol (the doctor) talked to me and said I need to have a blood test.

I was not happy. I don't do blood, which is the main reason I don't do doctors. She leaves me at a room that wasn't really a room at all. It was a like a room without the fourth wall, so it was completely open to the hallway. I sat down in the chair (now imagine this) and said to the lady, with my finger outstretched, "Are you just going to prick my finger?" She looked at me, smiled and said, "Oh no, we need a lot of blood from you. We're going to have to take it out of your arm."

Immediately tears started coming down my face. I looked at her with the saddest puppy eyes I'm sure and said, "I've never had my blood drawn before." Which is totally true. I can only remember ever having my finger pricked... and only that a few times. I chose not to look. She started on the left arm, poked me with the needle... then told me we were going to have to try the other arm. I whimpered, held a cotton ball to the arm and looked into the hallway where my mom was smiling with a thumbs up sign. I glared at her and shook my head. Her smile slowly faded as she realized what had happened. The lady tried my right arm, I realized she had succeeded as I looked over to see a container of my blood draining into a bottle. It was the most terrible thing ever.

Fifteen minutes later the results were back... MONONUCLEOSIS. I feel like I'm on the downhill track of the virus, which the only cure for is to ride out and get lots of rest and liquids. On the bright side, the doctor wrote me a note saying I might miss class or be late on homework, which is totally awesome. I also get to yell MONONUCLEOSIS and act like the Mono Monster and chase my friends around... they overreact and it is hilarious.

However, it also means constant nagging and concern from the mother... and although I appreciate it, it can be a little much. I told her I was going to be asleep right now. I am not. Soon enough I may be sleeping, but you never know with the Mono Monster on the loose.