Well...
- Serenade the Tomato
2. Live in the Tomato
3. Go to Prom with the Tomato.
4. BE THE TOMATO.
Okay, enough with random nonsense. As you can tell, I am bored out of my young mind. Because of the fact, I will share with you my uneventful day. So pull up a chair, or run while you have the chance.
When one is ill, one will miss school and go to the doctor (as one should). Usually, when one is ill, they feel miserable and irritable. When in a doctor's office, one expects to be treated of these ailments. But you must go though 9 circles Hell before you can become cured. Shall we begin our journey?
Circle One:
In this circle, you will face the inability to get up out of bed due to terrible exhaustion despite your 12+ hours of sleep. The grogginess you feel when sitting up and feeling your hair sticking in 120920394803249r03920 different directions only adds to your discomfort.
In this circle, you will be punished for sleeping in an extra 20 minutes by being forced to shower in the forbidden "middle bathroom". You know what is to come. The water will turn to ice within under 10 minutes--while you are still staring dazed at the wall with shampoo suds in your hair. Then, you will be condemned to using the scratchiest towels possible. And just for the heck of it, you forgot to grab clean underwear.
Circle Three:
When getting ready and trying to make yourself look presentable to the "lovely" people in your community, you will burn your forehead with a straightener, step on the plug in of a hairdryer, and put your clothes on backwards--all while trying to remember when your appointment was exactly.
Circle Four:
In this circle, you will be running late of course. The car ride there will consist of you blaring your iPod at a hardly bearable level with your face smooshed against a window because of the coolness it provides. Oh yeah, then you will start coughing up this disgusting sticky stuff. Good news, though, your mom put tissues in the car. Bad news, you can't find the thing that flew out of your mouth.
Circle Five:
Once you reach the hospital and enter the waiting room, you will see a plague of small children running about. There will be no seats. Because although the parent is there, the small, 2-foot-tall, 30-40 something pound child INSISTS on having their own seat. And that rule will apply for every. single. child.
Circle Six:
After you finally manage to GET a seat, the kid next to you will be hell bent on staring at you until you blow up or do something interesting. After a few moments, that child will then proceed to leave it's mother, go to the other side of the couch and beat it like a deranged orangutan who just discovered an unlimited supply of banana trees. Don't even bother asking the mother to tame the child. Her saying, "Now, Jim Bob, stop being Hercules and sit with mommy", will only make the child run and laugh at ear splitting levels (I thought these kids were SICK?).
Circle Seven:
After Sitting there for the first hour, you will finally get called back to the observation room. When you get in there, the nurse mothers and your mother will unnecessary talk about things of unimportance. "Wow! She lost so much weight! Over 35 pounds!" "How are your girls?" "Do you still get visited by Jehovah's Witness?" I AM SICK AND I FEEL LIKE DEATH, CAN WE PLEASE JUST GET THIS OVER WITH? Then they will put the blood pressure thing on your arm and leave it for so long your arm turns red and you can't move your fingers.
Circle Eight:
After evaluation, you are damned to sit back out in the waiting room for another hour. The good news--the crowd has died down, the bad news--YOU HAVE TO SIT OUT THERE FOR ANOTHER HOUR. In this hour, you will bond with your mother over how crappy life has been lately. She will love you more for talking to her about your problems, but remember this, she will use it against you eventually.
Circle Nine:
The last, and most terrible circle you will face. You are now in one of the rooms waiting to be seen. Once the doctor arrives and you go over your symptoms, he will click his tongue and pull out a thing that looks like a throat swab for strep. It's not going down your throat, honey. "We want to check and see if it is flu--the symptoms sound very likely." Then, he will stick the thing up your nose. First, it tickles, then it feels like an alien, then it'll hurt like a mother. After he dislodges the thing after leaving it there for what he feels like an hour, he will send it off for testing and you won't find out until tomorrow if you are even diseased.
The good news? No school, virtually no worries, time to myself, and the empathy of your mother who then will take you to CVS Pharmacy for a treat, magazines, and get better gifts, and then to your favorite place to eat.
The bad news? No school, knowing you will be piled with homework, too much time to myself--thus my mind will wander...(which is the last thing I need right now...), and your mom won't be able to take you to CVS for treats--or out to eat as she usually does when you are sick, because of everyone being so incapable of picking up a younger sister from school.
Congratulations. You survived the Nine Circles of Hell. Oh goody. Yeah, no consolation prizes, sorry.
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