It's that time of year-flu season.
It never fails. Every year around this time, I manage to become a victim of the common cold.
I go to bed feeling great and then - come morning - BAM! It hits me like a ton of bricks.
I wake up feeling like a truck ran over me in my sleep. My nose is running, my head is throbbing and my eyes are itching. I'm sure you all know exactly what I'm talking about.
Going to the doctor wouldn't do much good, so all I can do is treat the symptoms. And of course, drink lots of fluids and rest. It must be the resting part I have trouble with.
I have managed to put my life into some sort of order but that usually doesn't leave a lot of time for rest - or for being sick for that matter.
I'll never forget my freshman year, first time the flu hit when I was away from home. I was a wreck. I called my mom, balling my eyes out begging her to come to Marquette and take me home. But she wouldn't.
"No Chelsey, one day you are going to be a writer in New York and I won't be able to come help you. You can do this!" she said.
So I toughed it out. For a while, I sat in my loft, feeling sorry for myself. Then out of nowhere my roommate came in with a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. Keep in mind, we really didn't talk much before this. In fact, I didn't talk to anyone in my dorm.
"Here, eat this. It will help," she said.
I was shocked but extremely grateful.
I few hours later, the guys from across the hall came in with a huge flannel football blanket.
"We heard you were feeling a bit down," they said.
"Wrap up in this blanket my mom made for me. It always makes me feel better," one of the guys continued.
By the end of the night, most of the people on the hall had come into my room checking in on me. It was almost as good as being at home.
Within a few days, I was starting to feel better. I called my mom up and thanked her for not coming up.
She was right. It was just one of those milestones I had to go through.
The easy thing to do is give in to being sick. The harder thing to do is to stick it out.
Thanks to my mom and my helpful roommates, I was able to survive.
And, hopefully, one day I will be a famous writer living in New York. When flu season hits, I'll be able to get better, all by myself. (With the help of a few friends, of course.)
Editor's note: Chelsey Roath is a student at Northern Michigan University. Her weekly column on college life in Marquette runs on Sundays. Her e-mail is email@example.com.