Ah, parents

I have some sort of a virus. I found out today that I have a 100F fever. (The blood plasma clinic has several useful function). Anyway, my mother called today to see if I could get any inside deals on Nu football skag (no ma ,I can't). I told her about my illness. High fever, fatigue, low appitite. She was concerned, of course, especially by the exhaustion and low appitite (though these are almost certainly caused by the fever, and not independent symptoms of their own.) She seemed worried that I had West Nile .
What a shame. One of the most common fallicies we make is to assume that the bad ends we hear about the most are the ones most likely to get us. So we have another ciggarette and shot of whiskey to get over our fear of terrorists and child molestors. I know my mother means well, but she should know better than this.
In truth, I might very well have West Nile, but this means nothing by itself. West Nile is basically the same thing as the flu; a mild-to moderate disease that, for an unlucky few, can be life-threatening. Of course, there is no reason to assume that I am not one of the unlucky few. But, without trying to sound like a badass, so what? We all have to deal with the contradiction of functioning with society as if we're going to live forever, while dealing with the reality that we will not. (Got nothin to lose it's just me against the world)
But I suppose I should stop complaining. My mother has promised to pay for a doctor's examination, and there's no denying that this is a good idea. If they still prescribed opium for routine illness I would have scraped up the lose change myself by now. But I must spend my starvatio wages on chicken soup and Nyquil. I love ya ma.