Monday, September 12, 2011
If It's Called "Mono" Then Why Are There So Many of Them?
The other day, my doctor told me that I have mono. And that I've probably had it off and on for more than a year, which explains why all I have wanted to do for longer than I can remember is lie on my sofa under a pile of blankets and pretend I'm a cicada nymph. Before that diagnosis, I firmly believed in three things: 1) that once you've had mono, you can never have it again, 2) it lasts a few terrible weeks at most and then is gone, and 3) that when you're sick, fairies come down from the sky and cure all your illnesses while you sleep with fairy dust poultices applied to your chest area. Therefore, going to the doctor is always optional, unless you lose a limb and can't manage to cauterize the wound on your own.
Apparently I've been wrong about all three things for my entire life.
I had mono in high school, and I was gone for an entire week, and the only awesome thing about that was that I didn't have to stand up for those mortifying perfect attendance awards we had at the end of the school year where everyone would look at you like you were some kind of never-sick goody-two-shoes.
My doctor told me that I have "old mono" and "new mono." And I don't know what that means, but I like to imagine the old mono walking around the golf course in my spleen remarking, "Neville, old bean, have you seen all this new mono walking around? How gauche." Meanwhile the new mono are all out on their yacht with a lot of topless bacteria, screaming, "Woo! Partay!"
Long story short, mono is an asshole. So, don't get mono. Unless your goal in life is to hibernate through your 30s.