With two weeks left in the semester, I’m proud to say that I have great — well, passing — grades, made accomplishments at the Herald, and have experienced one of the most fun semesters of my life.

What I would really love to do is celebrate most of these last two weeks (and study some) with bottles of booze at the bars and parties. I would love celebrating the start of winter break and my last semester of college, but guess what? That’s not going to happen.

Besides trying to attend some classes these next three weeks, I’ll be on bed rest, pumping myself full of antibiotics strong enough to knock over a horse: Tylenol, Mucinex and cough drops to nurse pneumonia.

This isn’t an illness that comes, screws your world for a while and leaves without the slightest goodbye after 24 hours. It’s more of an illness that continually screws your world in every which way it can. It causes pain in your chest and back, and begins with a throbbing headache. 

You’re also constantly coughing up lime-green mucus beauties. And by the time this column goes to print and sits in your hands on Friday while you should be paying attention in class, I’ll probably still be doped up in bed feeling like absolute crap because pneumonia doesn’t plan on leaving my body any time soon — at all. 

Hopefully by Christmas I’ll be a brand new person, or rather the old me, full of energy and not fatigued. No wheezing and no bed rest. 

I actually miss the classroom, and I miss going into the Herald office because that’s part of my normal life. It’s something like pneumonia that knocks you on your ass that makes you realize the normalcy you miss in your life and the simple things you take for granted.

For example, I don’t have a car right now because I can’t drive a car under the influence of some of the medicine that I am taking. Also, pneumonia can cause some confusion, so I wouldn’t want to put other peoples’ lives at risk with me behind the wheel.

Sooner or later though, I will be able to celebrate almost being done with my senior year of college, the holidays and bring in the New Year pneumonia-less. At least that would be my biggest Christmas wish at this very moment.