My brother is getting over the chicken pox. He came home from school last week after passing out in the library and being rushed to the emergency room. As he was hooked up to heart monitors to make sure nothing was seriously wrong, mom noticed the first few telltale spots forming. Dr. Idiot insisted that it wasn’t the chicken pox. He’s just now past the part where you fantasize about ripping your skin off. We think he passed out because he hardly had anything to eat that day, and he’s normally a very good eater.
As for me, I’ve been incredibly busy with schoolwork. This is the last 10 days of the semester, which means the workload is really intense. I am exhausted. Once the semester is over, I think I’ll be crashing for a solid week, at least.
Done with psychology (YAY!). Two English papers to go.
In just a few hours, I meet with the pulmonologist for the first time. I’m nervous, especially since I found out that he’s in the same office building as the DOOMatologist that I had a catastrophic experience with the year before last. With any luck, he’ll be nothing like that DOOMatologist, and maybe he’ll even know what to do with me. Ah, a girl can dream…