The Plague

Now, I feel like I’ve cheated a lot of you out of the best of the story of Bryan and I. It wasn’t so much that after the initial escapades we just started dating and living a happy little life. There were two and a half weeks that we dated in Texas before I bounced to Kansas City, and then later bounced to New York City. These first two and a half weeks were critical–show your best side, have your best outfits on, say cute things…because you’re moving and then you have to decide whether or not this relationship is worth the test of an enduring long-distance relationship.

We started dating on November 28th (officially) and my birthday is December 3rd. My birthday weekend was also the same weekend for our grand sorority formal–my last ever and a promised first for Bryan. I had it all schemed out. I was going big or going home; I had retrieved my awesome prom dress from high school (yes, I know most people wear short silk dresses), but I never put myself in that category as you can clearly see (an amazing friend is modeling it here). I was just going to show up at the event so over-dressed in peacock blue with seven layers of tulle that screamed ‘I’m out of here, baby!’
None of the above was able to come to fruition because the first of the plagues began to happen to my body. It was a Thursday night–two nights away from the par-tay–and I started to feel a little itchy in bizarre parts of my body. Thinking it might be some kind of commercialized infection, I went to Walgreen’s and bought products to stop it. In the morning, at about 7:00am, I woke up and knew something was all wrong. I was severely swollen in the one area a woman does not want to discover she’s swollen in. I panic, I sit up, it hurts, I lay back down, I stand, were my legs this close together? No, I am swollen down to my legs… I immediately call LL from the TCU nursing program and a close friend. I explain the situation and she asks if I’ve been engaging in crude acts. I haven’t. She says it sounds like it.
I call the campus facilities and they can only get me in to see the regular doctor, the specialists are ‘booked.’ When I get there and they review my problem, they feel differently and the specialists suddenly free up. As I am sitting there, these bumps begin forming all over my body. I see a guy friend in the waiting room. He asks what’s wrong with me…he has a cough or something. I say “I’m not sure.” I leave the TCU health center armed with Benadryl. It is nothing but an allergic reaction to something; I take them every three hours until 5pm. At 5pm I am at a local CareNow walk-in with my friend LL. By now, my entire body is covered in leprous-like red spots that hurt. They tell me I have scabies and am highly contagious. I leave with pesticides to coat my entire body and am informed I should be quarantined. I feel disgusting! Bryan asks to come over and I try to casually explain that I’m ‘not feeling so hot’ over the phone. He comes anyways and we eat Pei-Wei in the dark because I tell him I feel like The Beast. Three days later, with five total days of quarantine, 7 loads of laundry on my bed sheets, and a steroid pack later, I am looking as good as new. And after many calls to doctors and hours on, I was informed that the medication I had ironically been taking to clear up my skin had sulfur that had been rejected by my body…I stop taking it immediately. I’ve already missed the formal for fear of scaring everyone with my poc-like body; Bryan is more bummed than i am. I decided it was good that it happened to me and not him. If he would have tried to explain ‘it’s nothing’ to me about this same thing on his body I would have “vominosed” a long time ago.
I decide I can make it to the end-of-the-year dinner I was having with some close friends at a high-end restaurant. I hadn’t really had a drink the entire year I was 21 since I was basically taking care of so many girls that year who acted like they had never drank before. So I welcomed this chance to have a glass of white wine. The restaurant was very savvy about filling up the glasses when no one was looking, and supplied us plenty of raw and foreign appetizers to munch on while we waited on the meal. I don’t think this has ever really happened to me this way, but I was head-bobbing before dinner came. The combination wasn’t good and I was conscientious enough to know that I wasn’t holding my own very well. A friend called Bryan to pick me up (keep in mind…my brand-spanking-new boyfriend who has also been wearing pesticide cream this week). He does. This is starting to destroy the platform I’ve created for myself of a respectable and well-tempered individual. I get back to the house and I am very sick–like food poisoning sick for most of the night. He falls asleep and is completely unaware. Some of the girls check on me and I assure them that my boyfriend is taking care of me.
A couple of days later, recovering from two very embarrassing spells that I assure Bryan are unprecedented, I tell him I’m craving Uno’s Pizzeria. We sit down and I have an instantaneous feeling that I need to use the bathroom quickly, so I go. I come back. The waitress sets down the menu’s. I have the same feeling I had the first time and excuse myself to ‘go blow my nose.’ I’m gone for about ten minutes and still don’t feel differently, so I pack up and come back. Finally, when the waitress comes to ask for drinks, I have to go again. I apologized and explained to my new beau that I had a horrible stomachache and was trying to be inconspicuous, which hadn’t exactly worked out. As I was saying this, I stood up to return to the restroom and tripped.
I guess nature decided that hazing my boyfriend was the best way of knowing if he was really right for me. After those first few weeks of ‘unheard of’ problems, I had to confess that this was going to be a good indication of what it would be like to date me in the future. I’m always a mess–I’m embarrassing, overly truthful, I sing in grocery stores, I dance crazy at concerts, I have a lot of stomach problems, and I’m allergic to everything under the sun. And so, after mortifying him on many occasions by spilling my drinks on him (above), getting so greedy with the girl scout cookies that they were ruined (above), asking out loud in public if USC was playing the Denver Bronco’s tonight, and particularly writing my life in the story of this blog, he’s still here–in defense mode–waiting for whatever is next.

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