Mono is a whole new level of difficulty of getting out of bed. Everything you eat tastes like phlegm. Your head pounds so hard you’re surprised that your brain hasn’t squeezed out your ears, and it hurts like hell, for that matter.
Recently, I got my ass down to Syracuse University Health Services, after about two weeks of fighting off a cold and a week of sore throat and fatigue. Sitting in the tiny exam room. The nurse taking a throat culture, testing for strep. I assume that came up negative, because she came back in the room and asked me to wash my hands thoroughly — she was testing me for mono.
“Oh, we’re just going to prick your finger, it won’t be bad.” She pricked my finger, but then scraped away at the skin, squeezing blood out of my ring finger for about two minutes. It didn’t hurt so much as it was uncomfortable. I was freezing even though I was wearing a layer of spandex under sweatpants, and my mind was entering panic mode. I tried not to cry.
Turns out I do have mono, and as the doctor was telling me to “live like a grandma,” (yes, finally a valid excuse to skip out on Friday and Saturday night pilgrimages to Euclid and Comstock!) I interjected my characteristic sarcasm: “lovely,” and “splendid,” I believe were the words I used to describe my absolute relief that I would be stuck with perhaps the worst strain of the collegiate plague.
Being sick in college is infinitely more difficult than being sick at home. No question. It’s a consistent struggle of deciding whether or not skipping class is justifiable, contemplating whether you should actually set up a doctor’s appointment.
There’s no available and eager-to-help parent to pick up the script the Doc gave you to help you get better. You have to do that all on your own, head pounding, mouth tasting like phlegm, all the while having barely enough energy to keep your eyes open and walk at a speed of 1.5 miles per hour in a straight line.
It doesn’t help when you’re an active person that likes going to the gym, walking across campus, and spending time doing cool stuff. I’m a bad patient, too independent to let people help unless I know I really need it, detesting the weakness associated with being chained to the standard issue beds in dorms or apartments.
Being sick in college tests you not only physically, but emotionally. The workload of classes already is more of an emotional test than a mental or academic test for many, and the same goes for being sick. I’m struggling more with the fact that I don’t know when I will be able to resume my normal daily activities than I am with the headaches and fatigue and such.
However, should college students really have to feel as miserable as they do when they’re sick enough to stay in bed? Why does being sick at school have to be so much worse than being sick at home? Exactly-- it shouldn’t be any different.
Theoretically, besides not having the physical presence of the familial support system, having mono at school and having mono at home should feel like the exact same illness. However, somehow it just feels infinitely worse when staring at my cement, whitewashed walls than it does staring at drywall at home.
This experience has helped me understand the state of collegiate health care. The resources are always there for students — I have a Syracuse University Health Services magnet with a phone number on my mini-fridge. However, for many students, sometimes getting to Health Services when you can hardly make it to class is more of a challenge than it should be.
As so many students don’t have a car, the first alternative is walking the 10-odd minutes it takes to get to Waverly Ave. from most places of residence and the College Place bus stop, for those who live on South Campus. A 10-minute walk, once a piece of cake, becomes more than daunting when taking the elevator downstairs to the dining hall is difficult. SU ambulance offers a free service where students can call to get a ride from point A to point B, but I’m sure there are plenty of sick students who are unaware of this. People could look at bus schedules, but nothing beats the comfort of a private automobile over public transportation, especially with pounding sinuses.
We need to do a better job of bringing health care to students. One option might be having a nurse in each residence hall, who would be available to consult with students and help offer a course of action, that may involve a doctors’ appointment. Another would be advertising the medical transport services offered by SU Ambulance, and ensuring that students know that they have a support system behind them.
I’ve heard some Health Services horror stories of sick students not being able to get appointments, wrong diagnoses, and rude comments from staff members. I can not personally attest to these, so please take these comments with a grain of salt. My experience with Health Services has been adequate, but exactly that.
We need to make health care in college more than adequate. College — a literal cesspool of germs — needs to have the highest standards in health care because of how easy it is to get sick here. Part of the problem is making sure students know how to take care of themselves and know what preventative measures they can take to ensure they don’t end up bedridden, but part of the problem is that the health support system has room for improvement.
