A tale of immune system woe

I have decided that Rose is slowly killing me. According to many people with an impressive number of letters after their names, prolonged stress causes many negative effects to one’s immune system. I believe that I can prove this theory.

Two weeks ago, I catch pink eye. Whom I catch it from is a complete mystery. My fellow classmates avoid me like the Plague for a week. The day after recovering from pink eye, I begin coughing and wheezing uncontrollably. This is a fairly common occurrence, since I was diagnosed with asthma at the age of three.

After a week of not breathing, I go the doctor only to find out that one of my lungs is collapsing, I have pneumonia, and I have a possible stomach ulcer. I’m immediately put on eight different prescription medications, but does that keep me from going to class? No. If I didn’t go to class, I would fail.

After two seven-hour days of class in my drug induced state, I decide to go to Wal-Mart to buy food and socks. I was biding my time squatting in the sock aisle, trying to decide between green socks with maroon flowers and white socks with blue flowers, when suddenly the whole sock shelf is coming down on top of me.

I reflexively grab the shelf to keep it from squashing me. (Any good engineer would realize that the force exerted by my puny arms at the base of the large shelf would not overcome the moment of the shelf). I then realize that the shelf isn’t moving. I am moving.

I wake up slumped against the shelf in the sock aisle where I apparently passed out. Two days after this instance, I go to a neurosurgeon to discuss the fact that I have utterly killed my back. He discovered that I could not feel about two square inches of my foot.

Wouldn’t a normal, stress-free individual, realize that he or she could not feel their foot? I think so. Rose professors should stop giving us so much work. The way I am going, I may not make it another five quarters.