Sometimes I feel like I am on top of the world, checking things off my to-do list and getting at least five hours of restful sleep.

Other times, I feel like death.

It was all normal. Saturday, I had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in a year and finished all my homework like a good student. Sunday, however, I left work after only being there an hour, walked home and almost fell asleep on the nasty, cold floor of my community bathroom.

I was sick. So sick.

I remember thinking, "Maybe I should see a doctor." Then, I guess, I fell asleep.

I was left on the floor alone. I honestly thought I was having a near-death experience, or maybe even a visit from Karma.

The sweats were cold. I shivered. Then my body was as hot as a furnace. My head spun. I chugged Sprite. I inhaled crackers.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I didn't know how to take care of myself.

Where was my at home doctor – I mean, where was my mom?

Then I realized something: I am nearly 20 and I still need my mom, especially when I'm sick.

When I was younger, sick days turned into mini vacations. I wasn't in school and usually, my mom had to leave work early. I might have been running a fever or having the worst stomach aches in the history of the flu, but my mom knew how to make everything better.

As soon as she would get word of my illness, she would run beside me, whether she was already there, or she had to drive. When my body began to chill, she was quick to place a cold rag on my head. When I was feeling better, warm soup was always ready for me to eat. When I was lying on the bathroom floor afraid to make another move, she forced me into the car to visit the doctor.

But on my own, I am not even sure of what medicines to take. I don't know if I am contagious. I don't know if I am making the whole thing up for attention.

I just knew that I didn't know anything.

Instead of having warm soup served up by mom, I had to pay to have it delivered to me in the middle of the night. Instead of having someone watch and make sure I'm still sane, I forced myself to sleep for 12 hours straight. Still yet, that didn't work. My roommate claimed I locked her out of the room around midnight. I don't remember that. I thought I was asleep.

When I woke the next day, my friends were surprised to see me. And honestly, I understood their shook. I am surprised I took enough care of myself for that to happen.

I guess I took for granted the care my mom gave me for 20 years. But haven't we all?

They say that the first time one gets sick away from home is the hardest, and I believe that. I thought it was Karma, but I think it was just the flu knocking on the door.