Every night the fever hit me, for two weeks, starting around 7pm and ending around noon the next day, leaving me exhausted, fatigued, and extremely achey. I saw a total of five different doctors in those two weeks, trying to determine what I had, and conveniently I never had a fever when I went. Two ER visits, two trips to the Allergy doctor, one trip to the Infectious Disease doctor, and two IV’s and three blood-draws later, they never determined what I had. It wasn’t the flu, or mono, or anything typical. The closest they could come was Typhus Fever, but in the end, even that wasn’t correct.
I missed 7 days of Arabic class. We can miss a total of 10 before we get an F in the class. I don’t plan on missing anymore, because I need to save at least a couple of those absences for accidental over-sleeping or a random bout of stomach virus or something.
I’m better now—except for a tiny amount of residual fatigue—but dang, what a great way to spend two weeks: in hospitals, lying in bed while my head is on fire, worrying about the horrifying looking rash spreading across my limbs, and getting needles stabbed into my arms until they bruise.
Welcome to Austin: have an unnamable viral infection!
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