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Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? I fear I am the last of the survivors.
This week began normally, as all weeks do. I woke up on Monday morning sporting a residual hangover from going too hard Saturday. I hated myself, my decisions, and the existence of alcohol. Like I said, pretty normal. Little did I know, there was a plague brewing all around me, and I was oblivious to the signs.
As I walked to my bathroom to shower, I heard my roommate coughing in his room, yet I thought nothing of it. “That’s what you get for ripping cigs all weekend,” I thought to myself smugly. But that wasn’t the only sign I ignored. As I left the apartment to go to work, I saw tissues piled high in our trashcan, but I assumed that they had been used in the stead of paper towels since I had once again forgotten to buy more. Oh, how naïve I was.
My obliviousness continued all throughout the day. Sure, there were more coughs than usual in the office, but I chalked it up to a rough weekend for everyone. The girl that sits to the left of me blew her nose a few times, but hey, allergies kick in when the weather changes. Everyone knows that. Even when my boss brought up that he “wasn’t feeling too hot,” I brushed it off. “It’s fucking Monday,” I thought. “No one’s feeling too hot. You’re not special.”
I wish I could say I foresaw what was coming by the end of the day, but I didn’t. I just didn’t see the signs. Sure, my roommate was holed away in his room by the time I got home at 8 p.m., with the only trace of his existence being more tissues and a half-empty bottle of Nyquil on the table, but that’s just par for the course in our apartment. Sometimes you just gotta take what leading physicians refer to as “an irresponsible amount of cough syrup,” and pass the fuck out. Fuckin’ doctors. Always so condescending. Like they’ve never chugged a concoction of whiskey, Nyquil, and orange juice to stay healthy before.
The first sign I caught was on Tuesday morning, but by then, it was far too late. I was on the couch, working from home (read: drinking a Bloody in my boxers), when my roommate emerged from his room, cocooned in his comforter. “Dude,” I asked him, “our AC unit is barely managing to keep it under 75 degrees in here, how are you cold?” He looked at me with glazed over eyes and mumbled, “I think I’m getting sick.” The realization hit me like a truck. All the hints I had missed came flooding back like a montage of my ignorance before my eyes. The sickness had begun, and I wasn’t ready. As he stumbled through our tiny apartment, hacking up a lung, I began to take desperate measures. I broke out the Lysol wipes and attacked everything he’d touched in the last 24 hours with the fervor of someone desperately trying to remove incriminating fingerprints before the FBI raids their apartment. But it was too late. All too late.
I locked myself in my room and took far more than the recommended dosage of the Vitamin C pills I keep for just such an occasion. I opened my window to get fresh air; air that wasn’t contaminated. I even considered, in a moment of panic, to stop drinking my Bloody Mary and switch to water instead. Luckily, I slapped myself to pull myself together in time. I stayed in my room as long as I could, only leaving to make trips to the bathroom and the fridge, where I had had the foresight to save the $38 of Chinese food I had ordered for my hangover on Sunday. I don’t know if MSG fights off viruses, but if it does, I’m immune to all sickness.
That brings us to today. My apartment was still this morning; hauntingly still. I heard no noise from my roommate’s room. No coughing, no sneezing, nothing but dead silence. The sickness had gotten him. He was lost. I wish I could say I shed a tear, but I’d be lying. All I cared about was my own well-being. You see, I have important weekend plans. My friends and I are taking a party bus down to South Bend for the Notre Dame game, and I can’t be sick for that. It’s a life or death situation, and I choose life.
Today, my office is deserted, save for the walking sick. The coworkers that sit on either side of me have a desk piled high with tissues. Their eyes are blank. The sickness has overtaken them. One is drinking soup. Soup, at 9:30 a.m. Those aren’t the actions of someone in control of their motor functions. They’re too far gone to save. I am the last survivor. All of my bosses are working from home. They are either too far gone to endure the commute, or, I pray, have taken cover in their own homes. I wish I had that option, but my roommate’s nasty-ass tissues have turned my safe haven into ground zero.
As for myself, I’ve taken refuge in the only place I could find – one of the conference rooms. Luckily, we have no clients in the office today, due to the fact that the city is a barren wasteland of the ill. I have kept the lights off in an attempt to hide my presence in the office, but I fear it is not enough. Occasionally, a walker will rattle the door. “Sorry, I’m on a call,” I’ll yell, but I sense they know I’m lying. I’m never on a call. My whole job is just writing witty sentences until it’s late enough in the day to grab a beer. I know I won’t make it out of here with my health. I can hear the coughing growing louder and louder outside my door.
If anyone is still out there, I beg of you. Come rescue me. We can escape the city and begin a new life somewhere. I have enough Vitamin C pills and those little, mini-orange Cuties to make our lives comfortable. We will eke out a living in the aftermath of this pestilence-filled world.
Please bring Bloody Mary mix. .
Image via Shutterstock
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Nick Arcadia
The opposite of a life coach. Email or DM me if you want some bad advice: nickarcadiapgp@gmail.com
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Honestly, getting sick right now and spending a few days at home watching Netflix sounds kind of awesome.
Shed some lbs too by just eating shitty soup for a few days.
A few weekends back I went out when I probably shouldn’t have (was already somewhat sick). Woke up Sunday with a hangover and an actual sickness. For 48 hours I watched House of Cards and Curb Your Enthusiasm, and also ate 1.25 meals. It was enjoyable and my figure hasn’t looked this good since I was 19.
I drank too much all day yesterday on the plane and in SF with JR and now I’m heading to this event in Napa in a tent and it’s it’s 90 degrees out and all I have are pants and long sleeves and I feel like my vision has a delay in focusing on objects and now I gotta go fucking talk to people. God damnit
This is somehow one of the most beautifully written pieces I’ve seen in a while…
1. This was beautiful
2. Can you pass along the name of the Chinese place?
1. Thank you.
2. Orange Garden. It was extremely average.
As a germaphobe this gave me anxiety
Getting sick is the worst.
Vitamin C tablets are fine, but liquid, liposomal vitamin C is far better. Combine that with kefir or other probiotic. This regimen has largely kept me illness free and I have kids in daycare. For those of y’all that don’t have kids, daycare is essentially a rogue nation’s bioweapons lab.
Day 4 of The Sickness. I stumble through the day in a haze of Dayquil, pissing off my co-workers that I decided to show up today and potentially infect them. Hope is nearly lost. Pray for me.
“chugged a concoction of whiskey, Nyquil, and orange juice to stay healthy before.”
My immediate go-to at the first sign of sickness. Works wonders.