It’s that time of year again: I spend the winter preparing for, recovering from or having a cold. Naturally, even when I only feel the slightest bit I always go to Baldwin.
The other day I awoke with a stuffy nose and a sore throat. Concerned I might have strep because a few of my friends currently have it, I figured I should go to Baldwin just to make sure. Upon arrival, I waited for approximately one hour to be seen by a health professional of some sort. (Are they doctors? Nurses? Does anybody actually know the job title of the people that work at Baldwin?)
These people proceeded to swab my cheek, miss my vein with a needle and ask if I was pregnant. Twice. This might seem excessive, but Baldwin is simply being thorough, and for good reason.
They concluded that I am, thankfully, strep free. After the blood test, they finally believed that I’m also fetus free, even though I had already reassured them 20 times and am currently on my period.
Thankfully, the nurse/doctor/person only diagnosed me with the Bubonic plague and sent me home to wait to die. Had I not gone to Baldwin, I would probably have never known that I only have three weeks to live! Now I have time to skip class, say goodbye to my friends and family and tell all the people that I hate that I hate them without worrying about any repercussions. Thank God, ‘cause I also didn’t do any of my readings for this week.