Go away, Lemmings!

So, it's the second day of my maths degree, and I've already missed lectures. Apparently, good intentions aren't enough to stop a crippling attack of freshers' flu... I'm starting to feel like I might actually be dying, like the times that I'm hungover and I start to panic that "oh my god maybe it's not just a hangover maybe it's meningitis because my head hurts and my neck hurts and bright lights hurt my eyes, and I've heard stories of students dying from meningitis because they never sought medical attention cos they thought it was a hangover and I'm going to die all because I'm too unorganised to sort out getting my meningitis jab ". But then usually I'll have a bacon sandwich and feel much better, and promise myself that the next day I'll ring up the doctor to book a meningitis vaccination so I don't panic quite so much the next time I'm hungover, but then by the next day I feel fine so thoughts of meningitis jabs don't even cross my mind.

A bit like that, only I don't even have the blurry memories/facebook photos/lingering taste of vodka that are the mark of a good night out. Remember the computer game Lemmings? Those lemmings with the pickaxes, that dug their way through walls? I'm pretty sure I've got a whole army of them camped out in my skull, trying to work their way out through my forehead. Only they're doing it at an extraordinarily slow pace, because that way it'll be even more painful, and will last so much longer! Thanks lemmings!

At the same time this freshers' flu seems to have decided that it wants to make breathing as difficult as possible, by stuffing my nose with as much snot as it can manage, and wrapping itself round my lungs and squeezing them as hard as it possibly can. Whilst this is extremely uncomfortable, its also a good excuse not to do any exercise, as I'm pretty sure I'd die within a few minutes as a result of being put into an acute hypoxic state.

The most insulting part is the coughing. For someone who used to smoke 20 cigarettes a day and now smokes none, it seems somewhat unfair that I'm coughing more than I'm breathing. I think my lungs are trying to make a bid for freedom everytime I open my mouth, despite the fact that if they did manange to escape they'd be inside out and soon die without oxygen. I wish they'd realise that actually they're supposed to be in my thorax, and stop bitching about what a horribly warm and cosy place they live in. And diaphragm, stop trying to help them. Without those lungs you are nothing.

I promise to write something with a more interesting subject matter when I am less of a sniffley, wheezy, headachey, lemsip-craving mess.