My housemate, one of the NCC girls from Canterbury, and myself, went to England the afternoon before our departure. We saw a comedy play called "39 steps" in a very nice theater. The tickets were in the top row, but the view of the stage was great! They only cost 15 pounds and we showed up on a whim. This was definitely one of the better ways I've spent my money when visiting cities, and I have a sudden interest in seeing live shows more often.
Finally, on the morning I woke up in London I could tell I was in for some bad news. I could barely swallow my own spit, and my body ached. When I got home I was bed ridden for an entire day. My Irish housemate offered to pick me up some tylenol, which was a lifesaver no doubt. The following day I saw the campus doctor.
The doctor was quite an ordeal, especially in my condition. I had to make the trek to the main building, which was a 15 minute walk in the blasting wind. I arrive to discover that all of the doctors appointments are booked and I'll need to schedule a nurse's appointment instead. So I settle for the nurse's appointment (for 3 hours later). I make the trek again when it's time for my appointment only to sit in the waiting room for 45 minutes. Finally I get sick of seeing other people go in to see the doctor and I go back to the reception desk and ask if it's normal to wait 45 minutes. They seemed astonished!
Upon further inspection, they had somehow spelled my FIRST NAME incorrectly. They came out and asked for "Jeduostryoras" or however ridiculous way they butchered my simple 5 letter alias, and of course I had no idea they were calling for me. So they finally sort things out and I wait ANOTHER 45 minutes with the chills and the sorest throat I've ever had. Finally I get to see the nurse.
When I go into the nurse's office she asks your standard questions, and I tell her about the screaming pain in my throat. I already know what it looks like, and it's not good, but I think she might get a kick out of it if I leave the details for her to discover. I had my mouth open for milliseconds and she immediately sent me to doctor.
The doctor had a similar reaction, and my antibiotics were prescribed (at the lovely cost of 30 euros). By the time this whole ordeal was finished I was way too exhausted to walk all the way to the pharmacy down the road (another 20 minute walk). The next day I walk and buy my damn medication and stuff it down my throat as quickly as possible.
Things started looking up from there, and after a week of wasting away in my bedroom my severe case of strep throat had subsided.
The weeks that followed were filled with this cycle:
1) Waste lots of time.
2) Waste more time.
3) Night before an exam arrives.
4) Plan to study but just waste time until 3 am.
5) Decide sleeping is a good idea.
6) Wake up at 7 and cram for a few hours before the exam starts.
7) Ace exam.
8) Repeat.
Today the cycle ended and nearly has my Irish journey. A lot of people are leaving, going off to their Irish homes or their American homes. I say goodbye taking for granted that I may never see their faces again. I can't regret a single memory I've made, or forget a single person I've met.
This initial state of "in-between" feels like the twilight zone. I feel incredibly anxious about going home and there's an underlying feeling of sadness and loss. I know these feelings will pass, and I may very well have a chance to see a lot of my abroad friends again, but that doesn't change how lost I feel right now! All I can say is, the sooner I leave this empty dorm house, the better.
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