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Being BC’s Patient Zero

Hello all. Many of you might have noticed the recent epidemic spreading across campus. It comes with a cough, runny nose, possible fever and strikes when you least expect it, holding many of its hostages for at least a day. Unfortunately, I am BC’s very own Patient Zero and while I cannot make up for the mistakes that have brought many of us to this point, I feel it is my duty to claim responsibility and share the gruesome origins of this “cold” so that no one else may follow in my footsteps and unleash another mass epidemic on the BC population.

ZeroThe plague came to us last Tuesday, when like any normal day I attended my only morning class from 10:30 a.m. to 11:45 a.m.  and began venturing towards Mac to obtain some crummy sustenance that’s apparently worth the 68k I’m forced to pay BC yearly. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Was it someone asking me to lunch? Has someone in my family died? Was my mom calling me about that picture someone posted of me at a party from the previous weekend? Praying it’s not the latter of the three, I whipped out my phone to check who could possibly want my attention.

It was one of my friends from Northeastern. For their safety and privacy, I will refer to this person as Patient X, so that they may retain their dignity and various friendships across both institutions. Patient X had gone out over the weekend, and thus suffered greatly through Monday to the point where they could not attend their classes and work on that fine Tuesday. In fact, Patient X had suffered so much Monday that they were quoted saying “I feel like monkey butthole Trish eff off.”

At this point, being the kind friend I am, I offer to pay Patient X a visit equipped with the big guns. I’m talking both Dayquil and Nyquil along with soup and ravioli. This is no small mission. Knowing I’m heading into the storm, I take precautionary measures and dose myself with Dayquil and a hefty amount of hand sanitizer before taking an Uber into enemy territory.

This is my biggest mistake. I was overly cocky and naive to think that the simple measures I’d taken would limit me from becoming a living breeding ground for this parasite.

My Uber arrives at the location around 12:30 p.m. Looking back now, I scream at the Trish from a week ago to get back into that car and head back to campus or to Ben & Jerry’s. Anywhere is better than the battleground she’s about to march into. Stepping out from my safe haven, I make it to the door and send the text. There is no turning back. The door opens, I’m ushered inside and my fate is sealed.

I stay at Northeastern from 12:30 p.m. to around 6. During this time, I eat peanut butter and toast, take a nap, and wake up with a fever. The disease has entered my bloodstream and I am officially contaminated. Ironically, during this small span of time Patient X and I switch places. They are now taking care of me, and I am now cursing the fact that I tried to be a good person.

I leave Northeastern, and head back to campus, desperately taking Dayquil in a last ditch attempt to stop the cataclysmic events I have set in motion. The next day I do not attend classes, and leave my room only to grab sustenance at 2:00 p.m. with the hopes that this will limit my victims. Unfortunately, while in Mac, I see a friend. She is also from the Midwest and thus loves hugging. I try to warn her as her arms begin to trap me in a fatal embrace, but she persists, saying “Don’t be silly! I don’t care if you’re sick!” Damn those words…she hugs me and retreats back to her table. As I walk back to by room, terrified of what’s to come, I look back to witness her hugging several other individuals. The epidemic has begun. No one is safe. Do not fail as I have failed, and learn from those of us who have fallen.

Image: Author’s own edit

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