h1n1.

You know what they say about potentially fatal illnesses: it’s always funny until you’re wearing handlebar-mustached surgical masks.  Or coughing up Jenga blocks.  Or pissing strawberry lemonade.

And then it’s hilarious!  Possibly running as a special at O’Charley’s, too.  The last part, at least.

Yes, folks, H1N1 has reared its ugly, virulous head around these parts.  One of my roommates has been given the death sentence.  Five days quarantined.  Which is a longer sentence than Donte Stallworth got for killing a man.

ZING!

It’s funny, all this hooplah.  I honestly thought when you were diagnosed with H1N1 that they immediately sent some sort of paramilitary CDC team to your house and blockaded your house E.T.-style.  I was expecting two dozen men in astronaut suits with duffel bags full of duct tape and Geiger counters.  Perhaps a death squad if the domecile was deemed beyond all hope of viral eradication.

But, no.  You get none of that cool shit.  You just have to wear a surgical mask and lock yourself in your room, and everything probably has to be disinfected.  But given my propensity for storing remote controls in my pants already, why bother?  Diseases on shared surfaces?  Been there, done that.

What’s crazy, though, as the poor H1N1 leper pointed out, is that the policy around here is “don’t ask, do tell.”  Supposedly, this is how it’s supposed to work: you get sick, then you e-mail your professors explaining that you are sick, but you never actually seek medical consulation for your sickness because you’ve been advised to stay away from public areas, such as clinics, so as not to further spread the illness.  This would be a great policy if (a) professors actually gave a shit and didn’t stick to their arbitrary doctor note attendance policies, despite the IU policy allegedly overruling their individual one, and (b) every time anyone got sick, it was “just” H1N1.  But what if you have something else?  And you’re encouraged not to seek medical attention?  Well, then, your strep infection is just going to get worse by the day, and by the time you’re so desperate so as to ignore the advice you were given by supposedly intelligent people, the bacteria colony in your throat is so extensive that it has its own symphony orchestra.  Most towns don’t even have a symphony orchestra!

Apparently, testing positive for H1N1 is akin to testing positive for HIV at a needle-sharing party (hosting one next Thursday at 2am by the way, BYOB, trail mix provided.)  You’re quickly ushered out of the clinic by a panicked woman pouring antibacterial lotion into every orafice of her body and frantically clinging to her rosary beads.  From there, dark clouds follow you on your drive home and form in an ominous funnel directly above your house, where the sky turns red and blood begins to rain from the sky.  Nobody wants anything to do with you.  You’re infected!

So I have to wonder, if that’s the case, if there are any malicious H1N1 patients out there just intent on sharing their illness with the plan, like HIV hate-sharers do.  You know, those sick bastards that intentionally spread their HIV.  Do people do that with H1N1 too?  Yeah, I’m gonna hit up this nursing home, see the damage I can do.  Or yeah, I think I’ll drop by prenatal yoga class and see how quick I can punch my one-way to Hell.

That’s an absurd proposition.  I kinda apologize.  But you get the point, with the stigma.

Am I worried about contracting the illness?  Not really.  But if I do, I’m going to use it wisely.  I’m approaching it like a set of vacation days, time off from work.  If I get sick tomorrow, I’m going to wait until Monday to report it.  That way my five day stretch covers Monday through Friday and doesn’t use up any weekends unnecessarily.  Is this an extremely dangerous tactic that could expose my immune system to irreparable damage?  Probably.  But so was waiting so long to get antibiotics for a senior year sinus problem that I missed two weeks of school and my eyes were leaking mucous.  I survived that.  Somehow.  I might have tested positive for everything under the sun (who knew a human could get feline chin acne?), but I survived.  And got more than my fair share of sympathy chocolate-banana milkshakes as a result.

So time will tell whether I fall prey to the Black Death of 2009.  If I do, I have the perfect treatment: five days of playing my Madden 10 franchise on the 360.  Hell yes.