Please don't let me be sick again...

So it just hit me about 20 minutes
ago...that dull, almost after thought
of soreness spreading through my
limbs. Oh merciful Heavens, don't
let me get sick again! With the
wheezing and the coughing and the
loneliness of quarantine. My only companion
being a bottle of 7up Plus and a box of
Nyquil gel tablets. Mmm…Nyquil.
I can beat this right? Tonight, I'll
swing by Little Dumplings, pick up
the spiciest pint of Tom Yum soup
they can brew. I shall scorch
the beast out with traditional
Thai seasonings.
Yes, beat this I will. Sleep, soup and water-that
is the best cure. I will be in tip top shape by the
weekend. Or so help me, I will give up completely
on living a healthy life and retire to a secluded life of
hypochondria. Doesn’t it seem like hypochondriacs have the loneliest, saddest lives? They don’t feel love, excitement, happiness…all they feel are aches and pains, chills, pills, and the occasional freight train on the chest. Constantly cowering in the shadow of impending death and illness, they shield themselves with lids from prescription bottles and hide in the armor of their own madness. I worked with one at my last job, and let me
tell you good sirs, she had no life at all. But then again, who does?