Being Sick

I have fallen ill of late, since the storm Doris swept through the UK and soaked me to the bone I have been suffering with congestion, headaches, a wet cough… et cetera. I must say, being out of my usual perfect health has been a most jarring and uncomfortable experience. Worse – my school has been dreadfully horrid about the whole affair!

I currently attend a sixth form, with the hopes of acquiring decent enough grades to study at university this September down in the south of the country. While I understand the school’s worries of me achieving my required a-levels, I wouldn’t commend their efforts to deal with my absence from class.

As it happened, I found myself in tears today due to the immense pressure the school seems fit to place firmly on my shoulders. I am bedridden most of the time, yet the school is making phone calls to my mother and enquiring when I will be back at school. Mother is not helping matters, she has forbid me from venturing out this Friday to drink and be merry with my friends. Not that I would go in my current state, however she and I had quite an argument a few days ago when my health seemed to be improving.

“Go – if you want to flunk!” She yelled.

I was rather startled by the whole event that transpired, and now she seems to hold insignificant matters such as this over my head, and creates new apparent crimes to further attack my sense of character. She remarked to my sister that I had ‘hidden’ my school report in my room, simply because I had opened the letter and read it within the confines of my bedroom. Well, I was most displeased and made the matter known to her. She seems far more level now, I think she understands that I am in great pain and need to re-cooperate before I can enter into a battle of the wits once more.

In essence, I would like to objectively say that being ill is simply terrible, and that the people in my life are far too concerned with my ever-growing work load than they are in my recovering health.


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