For those of you who find pleasure in other people’s pain, this story is for you. This is by no means meant to scare or intimidate, only to warn: Swine flu kills your social life. Forget academics and the mile-long to-do list that has accumulated; by the time this unexpected illness takes its toll you’ll find yourself delirious, five pounds lighter and absolutely friendless.

Two days after a long weekend of shared drinks, dirty dancing (RIP Patrick Swayze) and sloppy mingling, it comes as no surprise that a sore throat may arise, accompanied by a few minor aches and pains. Within hours your semi-tolerable discomfort becomes more severe as your Saturday night fever returns just to add to the mix. It’s the sudden appearance of your new curly tail and snout that causes the most misery. 

Sadly, this happened to me. Do not go planning any surprise pity parties, just take my advice: Don’t flirt with the flu. They call it quarantine for a reason. Coming within six feet of a diseased roommate is just a bad idea; the next thing you know, you’ll end up on the couch right next to her. Leaving soup on the front step for a friend isn’t rude, it’s the best decision you’ll ever make. Besides, it’s the thought that counts. Being tormented by HBO movie marathons for seven days straight is not as fun as it seems. Trust me.

Once your friends hear that you’ve come down with the flu, they begin avoiding you at all costs. After a few days, the pitiful cries for help coming from your bed go unanswered. You’ve been abandoned in your own home. The last connection you have to the outside world is the occasional phone call from your mother who lives five states away and the sound of your younger sister oinking in the background. Maybe it’s the SARS mask that scares everyone away. It’s quite the fashion faux pas after all. You’ve officially become pathetic. Your Facebook status reads, “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” Definitely pathetic.

In my case, this lovely viral visitor decided to overstay its welcome and invite over a few friends. After my fifth trip to the emergency room and four IVs later, I learned three valuable pieces of information.

One: This particular hospital housed the most attractive male doctors in Dallas; they even made Dr. McDreamy look bad. However, good looks don’t cure what ails you.

Two: Morphine has the power to transform almost anyone into a stand-up comedian even though you can’t actually stand up.

And three: In the immortal words of Dorothy, “There’s no place like home.”

Just when you’ve turned the corner to recovery, you hear a small, faint snort coming from the other room. Your roommate that went missing has suddenly decided to reappear, with a mask firmly in place, a gallon of hand sanitizer and a bottle of meds in tow. Déjà vu.

Jordan Jennings is a sophomore journalism major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].