One day in midwinter I missed the bus to school. I didn't have a hat or mittens, because we went from the home into the bus, bus into the school, and back again at the end of the day. The woman on staff that day, a particular enemy of everyone named Heather, told me she wasn't giving me a ride even though it was below zero (I can't remember how much). It took me forever to walk to school, and I was extremely late and very angry.
Less than a week later I came down with some kind of fever. It was so bad that I lost consciousness several times. This lasted for quite some time before my primary staff decided to take me to the emergency room, where they diagnosed me with bronchitis. I went back. I got worse and worse, even a temperature of 107. My roommate, during one of my lucid moments, I remember her saying, 'Are you OK? I'm really scared for you,' and giving me a card one of my friends on the 'outs' wrote to me. I was gone, all in all, for about a month. Finally, they took me back to the hospital and surprise! I had walking pneumonia and they misdiagnosed me. Eventually I started to get better on the medication prescribed at that time.
While I was still weak in bed but lucid, Heather came to see me. She said, 'I heard you were very sick.' I nodded, thinking she was going to apologize to me. She stared at me and said, 'Well, I guess that'll teach you to wear a mittens and hat next time' and swept out of the room.
Out of curiosity, are these things as bad as I think? I realize they aren't quite at the status of being a POW, but that's how it felt a lot of the time. I am writing all these things here, thinking out loud, because I've never really told them to anyone before, so this has sort of become my way of expressing my feelings about the place. Your feedback is definitely appreciated; I'm remembering a lot of things I had forgotten.
-nuiloa
