Puff the Magic Dragon

Dear World,
I wish you could see how awesome I look right now.
I'm wearing a hoodie, my favorite pajama pants (which are a mile too long and look like someone on a REALLY bad acid trip designed them), no makeup at all, my Snuggie and to top it all off, a nice knit scarf (as instructed by my vocal teacher).

Yes. I have fallen victim to one of the many sicknesses floating around. Today was my third day off school with what was today diagnosed as bronchitis. Tomorrow will be my fourth because my doctor wrote me an excuse which does not allow for me to return to school until Friday. Which means I'm missing my choir concert tomorrow night. I deeply fear what's going to happen next. Which brings me to today's rant:

Doctors.

I understand that they're necessary. I respect them. I respect them a lot, actually. I'm just not such a big fan right now (although that may have something to do with the concert bitterness and me possibly failing choir, which, hi, how sad is THAT?).

Anyway, it seems that all doctors do is insult you. They tell you you're fat (which hurts even if you are). They tell you you're too thin (which hurts even if you are). Sometimes they can't figure out what's wrong with you. They sometimes perscribe drugs that make you want to kill yourself, or give you strange sexual urges, or make you lose your appetite.

Those are just general things. But honestly, I was thinking about this earlier:
The first strike the doctors had against them for me was when I had to get shots. In my hip. I couldn't walk/stand/sit without a pillow cushioning me for days. It was terrible.

When I was in fifth grade, I blew my knee out. I had to get it drained twice. It was just before the second draining that the doctor promised me if I let him drain it again, I would be able to play softball again that season. He lied.

In seventh grade, I asked them to write me a doctor's note so I could join Weight Watchers. They didn't dispute it or anything. They didn't say 'You don't need to diet' or 'Give it time - you're a growing girl' or anything. They simply wrote the note. Thanks, guys. I think this was the year I also had to go to a stat care in Hilton Head when I sliced my thumb open on a can of refried beans and had to get a tetnus shot and spent 5 minutes sobbing, begging the doctor not to stitch it. I should have just let him.

In eighth grade, I got another shot. The nurse must have nicked a vein or something because a huge purple, blue, grey, ugly bruise formed and wouldn't go away. For four months. I wore long sleeves most of the time for fear that someone would call child services.

In ninth grade, I had to get the Gardasil shots. When I got my first one, there was a weird bump at the injection site. I poked it. It bubbled. I'm fairly certain some of the serum didn't make it all the way into my arm, so when I pushed on the bump, everything ... bubbled it's way in. It was disgusting.

Tenth grade was when I had some sort of bizarre attack in Biology. I think my sugar levels dropped WAY low randomly, and the world got fuzzy and dark and all the sound was muted and I almost blacked out, so I had to leave school. A few weeks later, I went to the doctor and she told me she had no idea what was wrong with me, so she gave me a free test kit to test my sugar levels for a few days. AND she sent me to have bloodwork done immediately. My mom made me drive us to stat care to have the blood tests done even after I insisted (repeatedly) that my blood was probably happy where it was and that I would really like to keep all of it. That bitch stuck me in BOTH arms. And didn't give me a cookie or anything afterward. I then had to continue to slice my finger open and test my sugar for two days before she called to tell me that my blood work came back PERFECT and that I could stop cutting myself. For medical purposes. You know what I mean.

Last week I had to go in for my seasonal flu shot. They told me I was fat. And short. And they poked me with a needle. But they gave me a sparkley, holographic silver band-aid, which made me feel pretty BA.

Which brings us to today. They gave me antibiotics (yay) and a temporary inhaler. It's weird. I don't like it because it makes me feel like a druggie every time I use it. And they gave me a doctor's excuse. Through tomorrow. Which consequently makes me miss the concert. Whatever. At least I don't have swine flu.

I feel like I've skipped a lot of important stuff. Maybe someday I'll fill in the blanks of the past week and a half. But right now, I'm tired, my neck hurts, my throat hurts, my head hurts, I'm upset, and I'd really like to take this scarf off.

Las