Thus I rolled out of bed and attempted to tackle the day’s tasks despite feeling like an early flu season victim.  Not having a doctor who knows all my medical history makes me weary of going to the Health Center and having Dr. Random Joe poke and prod my body.  I miss visiting my pediatrician (yes, I’m too old to technically see him, but I still love the Charlie Brown and Lion King examination rooms…not to mention free candy and stickers just for stopping in) who knows everything from the time I busted my chin open on my grandma’s table to my insect sting allergy.  Honestly, who wants to spew out medical history when they’re literally about to spew.

But after nearly fainting in my photojournalism class, the Health Center was calling my name.  Two check-in counters and thirty minutes later, the nurse took me into the Acute Care Clinic.  Surprisingly enough, she didn’t want to prick my finger (as I swear they’ve done on all other visits).  Of course I still had to answer the laundry list of questions: What medications are you on? What medical conditions do you or your family members have?...and then the ones that make me feel like it’s an AA meeting: Do you drink alcohol?  How many times per week do you drink alcohol?  How many alcoholic drinks do you consume per week?  Please tell me how these directly relate to the fact that my throat felt like someone sliced it with a knife. 

After what seemed like an eternity of questioning, the doc came to see me. And wow was I blown away.  He actually chatted with me and treated me like a person; instead of just one of hundreds of students he sees each day.  His diagnosis: strep throat.