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Adventures
in Science: The Cycle of Influenza
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Page 1 -
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| From the Research
Diary of Shaggy D, Prestonwood Labs |
| Subject: Shaggy
D |
| Subject Status:
Infected |
I'm aware
of the inherent biases of studying oneself, but one takes one's
cadavers where they happen to lie. I'll take my measurements,
gather my data, and look to fellow scientist, Flipperson Wheyside,
to provide a reference point against which to crosscheck the validity
of my observations. Louis Pasteur may have been mad, but that
doesn't reduce the value of his work
Day
1 - Detection of Early Symptoms
Hypothesis:
My immune system is a thing of beauty. No precautions need be
taken - I'm bulletproof.
Notes:
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Endure
dual root canals in an early-morning dental procedure. Am forced
to go without food the entire day. Sit quietly though meetings,
too sore to talk, biding my time until I can go home and eat
soup. Life is less than excellent.
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Return
home in the evening, hungry and sore. Faced with the unsavory
prospect of trying to eat dinner without the use of my front
teeth, I elect to workout instead. An hour and a half of sweat
and loud rock music later, and I'm feeling a little like a man
on the brink of the flu.
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Decide
to be conservative and call it a night, early. Retreat to bed
at 11:30pm.
Conclusions:
It'll all be fine - a few hours of sleep and I'm golden.
Day
2 - Flirting with Illness
Hypothesis:
I can whoop this thing - no real corrective action necessary.
Screw 'em, screw 'em, screw 'em.
Notes:
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Awaken
feeling a little under the weather and rush to work. No time
for breakfast. I have a healthy lunch and ba-bang, I'm back
to 100%. My immune system pillages the virus with the ease of
Vikings landing on the French coast.
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Forced
to spend the afternoon participating in a company golf tournament.
As a protest against the excruciating sloth and safety of golf,
I play the game at a dead run. For eighteen holes, I travel
everywhere at a sprint, drinking beer while I do it.
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Six
PM, the game is done and again I'm feeling the perplexing onset
of flu-like symptoms. The erratic nature of the ailment frustrates
me.
Conclusion:
It'll all be fine - a little sleep and I'm bulletproof.
Day
3 - Contraction
Hypothesis:
All the world hates a sick man.
Notes:
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Awake
to find myself ill. Struck down, unjustly, by bullets from a
viral assassin's gun. I'm upset. Big meetings at work necessitate
my attendance, so I drag my infectious carcass into the office.
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Coworkers
avoid me like the plague and beg me to go home. Around noon,
my giant meeting burns down in a blaze of unforeseen problems.
Retreat to the safety of home, to sleep.
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Lie
on the couch, sleep, read. Friends come by to lure me away for
a weekend road trip, then flee like ducks before an eagle when
they realize I'm sick. Selfish bastards.
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Friends
depart for a weekend of cross-country adventure and boozing.
I remain inert and frustrated on the couch. Resolve to torment
Flip as much as possible if he lingers anywhere near me. Bored
are the damned.
Conclusion:
Hypothesis verified. Everyone sucks.
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