It’s 12:58 a.m. on a restless Friday night, the second and thankfully the most peaceful night within the last two days. I haven’t touched my computer since Wednesday and I have a pile of homework that is now overdue. Like it matters though.
The previous night around 1 a.m. I began to vomit all night long. My mom, who slept in her bedroom next to mine, was also experiencing the same symptoms: diarrhea, sweats, chills, heaving breathing, fevers, etc. I was so sick for so long that my gut was on fucking fire. The pain was so excruciating I didn’t even tell my mom that I was calling an ambulance. I knew in the back of my brain that she would say just to fight through it like everyone else.
I didn’t care. I was scared at this point and thought I could possibly be dying.
The ambulance eventually came and took me away while my mom refused to go because she didn’t think she needed it. Two of the paramedics came in wearing these white jumpsuits and clear masks that I swear I have seen in an apocalyptic movie a dozen times before. Obviously, they wore this just in case either of us had the coronavirus, which, I started to wonder if I actually did have.
I wanted them to take me away so badly, I literally only wore my bra with a Hampton Beach jacket hiding it, two socks, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer pajama pants with no underwear underneath, and the dirtiest pair of work sneakers I could find.
Honestly, the paramedics could have taken me naked for all I care!
I felt so close to passing out. Once onboard the ambulance, the paramedics gave me medicine through an IV to help me stop the urge to vomit. At this point, I had not slept in more than 24 hours.
Eventually, and thankfully, when I finally got to the hospital, the medicine began to work its magic and I got put into a hospital room that was perfectly made for the quarantined. Sliding glass doors, big, bright, warning signs to tell other doctors I could be “contaminated” and, just like the paramedics, almost every doctor who came in wore some form of a jumpsuit so that they would not get sick.
After about 20 minutes and 10 attempts to draw my blood, I had already begun to feel a million times better. My body, in many ways, was at peace. Telling the nurse I wasn’t wearing anything but a bra under my jacket was a little embarrassing, but like I said, I just wanted to get better and I didn’t care what happened at this point. I laid in bed for about three hours before the doctors gave me the okay to go home.
Now here’s the strange part.
For some reason I become hornier after the last few stages of this sickness. Like seriously, when I was in that hospital room, all I kept thinking about was how easy it would be to have sex in there without anyone noticing. This room had curtains which covered the whole sliding glass door, and I also had the sense that the room I was in was soundproof as well. I was also very disappointed to see that I did not have a male doctor that day.
I believed this was when I started thinking about Benedict Cumberbatch’s “Doctor Strange” performance and, like the girl that I am, fantasized about him walking into my room so that he could take my temperature and, you know, do other things to arouse me as well. At that point, I figured this fantasizing was the medicine talking and dismissed it after I caught a ride back home. Once there, I was stuck in my room for two days fighting the urge to either sleep or stay awake since my body could not make up its damned mind.
If I was awake, I wanted to sleep. When I tried to sleep, my mind just stayed awake. A friend told me that when this happens, it’s best to find a distraction to help your body make a decision. So, because that whole arousal experience in the hospital gave me such inspiration, I decided to watch “Doctor Strange” again for perhaps the twentieth time? Not on the same day of course! I’m just kind of in love with that movie… and the visuals… and “Doctor Strange.” Specifically, Cumberbatch’s interpretation of him.
I should let you know that I am very single, very lonely, and of course, horny as fuck.
When I am alone in my living room watching the movie, I can’t help sometimes but to notice Doctor Strange standing or lying down in a certain position for like half a second to which I say to myself “Honey, you can stay in that position all day long baby?” Then my big ass, dopey dog glances at me with the “Who are you talking to” glare again.
The point is, when I was restless, stressed and in pain for the next twenty-four hours after I came home, “Doctor Strange” literally got all my attention so that I could distract myself from my constant stomach aches and back pain from lying down for so long. After watching the movie, I looked up every possible “Doctor Strange” related YouTube video I could find. (Most of them contained “how it should have ended” content.)
I read free “Doctor Strange” comics during my spare time. I even did the “Stare at Doctor Strange Shirtless” challenge by my dog Kassie and yours truly! Obviously, I win every time. I don’t think Kassie understands the concept of staring at a sexy man until you get bored. Either that, or she’s waiting to be fed again.
In a fan-girlish, not obsessive at all sort of way, “Doctor Strange” helped me the last two days overcome my fever and the effects of it. I guess you want to hear the honest to god true message of this story, huh?
Well, I guess to sum it up…
DON’T GO OUTSIDE!
JUST STAY HOME, AWAY FROM SOCIETY AND THINK ABOUT THE SECOND “DOCTOR STRANGE” SEQUEL THAT WILL FOREVER CONTINUE TO GET DELAYED OVER AND OVER AND OVER!
I WANT TO SEE MORE SHIRTLESS “DOCTOR STRANGE” IN 3D WHEN IT FINALLY RELEASES. LET THE VIRUS TAKE ME AFTER THE MONTH OF MARCH 2022.
UNTIL THEN, I’M BOARDING UP THE DOORS, SETTING UP THE SECURITY CAMERAS, SANITIZING EVERY FINGERPRINT AND NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO CALL ME.
UNTIL THEN, GOODBYE WORLD!
I’LL SEE YOU WHEN YOU FINALLY GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.
I’m sorry, mom. I am so sorry.
