The Downward Spiral

Okay, this would be the beginning of a major freak-out. Yes, I know that doesn't immediately make sense; I'll explain in a minute.

I am soooo sick. If I were any sicker, I'd be dead. Or maybe Michael Jackson....it's hard to tell which is worse. I have been sick for SIX DAYS. And I'm not talking about being a bit under the weather. I'm talking about being pretty much completely bedridden for six days straight. About once a day, I muster my forces and drag myself to my computer to check my email and take care of all the beginning of the semester business. Then I retreat back to bed and lie in abject misery until night, when I pour myself a stiff shot of NyQuil and slip into unconciousness for a few fitfull hours. Rinse, repeat.

I went to the doctor yesterday, and she gave me some medicine that doesn't seem to be making me feel any better, just a different kind of bad. They say variety is the spice of life, but give me a break! I am no longer interested in treating my symptoms. I want to get better, or I want to die. When you get right down to it, those are the options. At this point, either one sounds like an improvement.

And now we arrive at the next point. The Spring semester starts on Tuesday, January 17th. This semester, I will be taking 15 graduate hours and 3 undergrad hours, for a grand total of 18 . I am insane and a masochist for taking 18 hours EVER, especially in graduate school. For those of you who are not aware, 9 hours is generally considered full-time for graduate students, 12 if you're really ambitious. The trouble is, every one of these classes I'm taking are ONLY offered in the Spring. So if I don't take them this semester, I can't take them until next year. I can't afford to drag out my education indefinately. I will boldly go where no Martin has gone before. I will get this Master's degree, and I will move on with my life. (Incidentally, "moving on with my life" will almost certainly involve MORE school, but that's neither here nor there...)

I have grit. I have determination. I'm working my way towards a stress-induced ulcer.

Ah, now back to my explaination. As I mentioned, I have been sick for six days. There is no sign of it letting up anytime soon. I have a rather busy and challenging semester in front of me:
Learning and Cognition, Research in Counseling, Cognition (without the learning), Master's Thesis, Grant Proposal Writing, and Intermediate Japanese. This semester starts in four days. Right now, I am barely able to walk across my apartment. Somewhere in the back of my brain, there is a flashing red light and a loud voice saying, "Houston, we have a problem."

Unfortunately, I just don't have the energy to respond.

I have to be in top form this semester or I'm never going to make it. I will fall behind at some point; there's no getting around that. But if I get behind right in the beginning, I'll never be able to catch up. Period. I must get well in four days. But last time I checked, my immune system doesn't respond to deadlines.

So anyway, this would be the beginning of a major freak-out if just typing this post didn't knock the wind out of me. If slouching in a chair typing didn't tap out my resources, I might be able to muster a proper level of concern/panic. For all the good it would do me. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it's better this way. I mean, I still feel the rising sense of panic and dread, but since I can't respond to it, that's a good thing, right? Right???