The Adventures of Princess Mono
My sister has Mono.
Finally.
We kind of figured it would happen eventually, I guess. Mono is all the rage these days and my sister is never out of vogue. She's been trying to convince us for months that she already had it once before. At least now, when she says, "That one time I had mono..." she won't have to hear, "Abby, you didn't have mono. Quit whining."
We Sellnows aren't a very sympathetic breed. Once, in like, the fifth grade, I almost broke my ankle falling up a set of concrete stairs at the Civic Theater about a an hour before a Drama Camp finale performance. They warned us over and over again not to run on those stairs of death but, damnit, I was just so excited at the prospect of getting my hair french braided that my enthusiasm got the best of me. When I slipped and started to cry...and cry and cry and cry, the director called my mother. She told them I was just being "dramatic" and they sent me out on stage. Because the show must go on! Everyone knew in their hearts the play would fall apart without the oldest half-boy-half-raven to offer up such memorable show-stopping zingers as, "stop him, he's getting away!" and "yellow is the color of a lemon drop." (I would be sad about how that was the pinnacle of my acting career if I chose to dwell on it, but you know I'm a sunny-side, glass-half-full kind of gal...) When the show was over, my parents took me to the Clinic and I was given an ankle brace and crutches to use for a month because, no mom, I wasn't just being "dramatic." To this day, whenever my mother tells the story about my injury, she laughs so hard she almost can't get the words out when she comes to the part where she says, "Everyone thought you were just a really good actress, but now we know those looks of fear and pain were real! Ha ha!" No wonder I have self-esteem issues.
Anyway, since my sister was able to obtain actual medical proof of her illness, she now has the right to a limited amount of sadness and sympathy. When my mother came to help move me out of my dorm room, she tagged along and sat around while my mother and I did all of the heavy lifting. "I'd help," she said, "but I might rupture my spleen."
Turns out, having Mono does have its advantages. Abby's upset about having to miss so much school and not being able to see her friends...but she's very excited that she lost twelve pounds in five days thanks to the water and sorbet diet. Ha! In your face, Trimspa! And, she found that Teen America's Favorite Virus is the one effective way to keep my father away from leftovers in the fridge. Every food item she touches, she titles MONO with a Sharpie. (Now, that's brilliant whether the leftovers are actually contaminated or not. I'm thinking of having labels printed up that say things like SMALLPOX and DYSENTERY to stick on anything I want to lay claim to. Have you ever asked for a drink of someone's Coke-a-HEPATITIS? I didn't think so. It's Genius.)
She better enjoy the benefits while they last though, because she is swiftly recovering. Today, Abigail is attending her first full day of class in ten days, and she'll soon have to make up all the homework she's missed. Hopefully, the Sellnow household is finally nearing the end of its imprisonment in Mono's death grip. If not, the experience has at least taught me one very valuable lesson for the next time around: The answer to the question, "want to see my tonsils?" should always be no.
P.S. I still need advice about Kenyon, but I was tired of looking at my one needy, serious post. My offer to send cookies to anyone who tells me what to do by June 15 still stands.
Finally.
We kind of figured it would happen eventually, I guess. Mono is all the rage these days and my sister is never out of vogue. She's been trying to convince us for months that she already had it once before. At least now, when she says, "That one time I had mono..." she won't have to hear, "Abby, you didn't have mono. Quit whining."
We Sellnows aren't a very sympathetic breed. Once, in like, the fifth grade, I almost broke my ankle falling up a set of concrete stairs at the Civic Theater about a an hour before a Drama Camp finale performance. They warned us over and over again not to run on those stairs of death but, damnit, I was just so excited at the prospect of getting my hair french braided that my enthusiasm got the best of me. When I slipped and started to cry...and cry and cry and cry, the director called my mother. She told them I was just being "dramatic" and they sent me out on stage. Because the show must go on! Everyone knew in their hearts the play would fall apart without the oldest half-boy-half-raven to offer up such memorable show-stopping zingers as, "stop him, he's getting away!" and "yellow is the color of a lemon drop." (I would be sad about how that was the pinnacle of my acting career if I chose to dwell on it, but you know I'm a sunny-side, glass-half-full kind of gal...) When the show was over, my parents took me to the Clinic and I was given an ankle brace and crutches to use for a month because, no mom, I wasn't just being "dramatic." To this day, whenever my mother tells the story about my injury, she laughs so hard she almost can't get the words out when she comes to the part where she says, "Everyone thought you were just a really good actress, but now we know those looks of fear and pain were real! Ha ha!" No wonder I have self-esteem issues.
Anyway, since my sister was able to obtain actual medical proof of her illness, she now has the right to a limited amount of sadness and sympathy. When my mother came to help move me out of my dorm room, she tagged along and sat around while my mother and I did all of the heavy lifting. "I'd help," she said, "but I might rupture my spleen."
Turns out, having Mono does have its advantages. Abby's upset about having to miss so much school and not being able to see her friends...but she's very excited that she lost twelve pounds in five days thanks to the water and sorbet diet. Ha! In your face, Trimspa! And, she found that Teen America's Favorite Virus is the one effective way to keep my father away from leftovers in the fridge. Every food item she touches, she titles MONO with a Sharpie. (Now, that's brilliant whether the leftovers are actually contaminated or not. I'm thinking of having labels printed up that say things like SMALLPOX and DYSENTERY to stick on anything I want to lay claim to. Have you ever asked for a drink of someone's Coke-a-HEPATITIS? I didn't think so. It's Genius.)
She better enjoy the benefits while they last though, because she is swiftly recovering. Today, Abigail is attending her first full day of class in ten days, and she'll soon have to make up all the homework she's missed. Hopefully, the Sellnow household is finally nearing the end of its imprisonment in Mono's death grip. If not, the experience has at least taught me one very valuable lesson for the next time around: The answer to the question, "want to see my tonsils?" should always be no.
P.S. I still need advice about Kenyon, but I was tired of looking at my one needy, serious post. My offer to send cookies to anyone who tells me what to do by June 15 still stands.
posted by Caitlin at 7:50 AM
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