Strange days

It's that special time of year -- fall semester exams. As a staff member, I am somewhat removed from the whole drama until I step out of my office. All our student workers have disappeared and show up only in 10-minute intervals, bleary-eyed, unshowered and apologetic (or not) about printing out their 20-page papers on our printers.

I'm never sure why they do that. Maybe it's the lines in the computer lab, but don't most of these kids have their own printers? Surely in this day and age it's not because they have slow dot-matrix or inkjet printers that require you budget an extra 45 minutes before the essay deadline. I remember many a nail-biting episode like that when I was in college. A laser printer would have been a godsend.

My library colleagues have had some interesting sightings in the last week:

1) Student who slept from approx. 6 am to 5:30 pm (maybe longer -- these were just the hours staff saw him) with comforter and pillow on a couch in the library. Staff did occasionally monitor him to make sure he wasn't dead.

2) Study aids left in a conference room by unknown student: paper, books, laptop and spray-bottle of Febreeze. Apparently, hygiene had fallen by the wayside.

As someone who sometimes takes items to the dry-cleaners only to turn around and put them in the washing machine as soon as I bring them home, I am disturbed greatly by #2. There's no substitute for soap and water.

Oh well. It'll all be over soon. More and more students conspire these days to finish exams early, so I've already seen some relieved faces. The parking lot is starting to empty out.

In another week, I'll be visiting an endocrinologist to find out what the hell is up with my thyroid. The ultrasound revealed the cyst I can feel and another "mass" on the opposite side that I can't feel. I've already poked at my neck, and nothing. This is why the ultrasound tech took so many pictures of the area far away from the cyst. THIS is why I had the sinking feeling after the ultrasound. At least my intuition was right.

So, they'll be sticking needles in my neck and other untold joys. The needles aren't a huge bother, really. It's more the thought of something growing inside me that shouldn't be there. Apparently, it's a common reaction when you first learn of a health problem to feel betrayed by your body. I had heard it said before, but I didn't really understand.

Many young women know the feeling of disliking, even hating, their bodies because of the way they look. It's a different hatred, though, when you feel let down. Sure, I don't like some of my lumps and dimples, but now my body is actually trying to hurt me. How do you work with that? How do you accept that insult graciously?

And I might as well admit, I don't relish the thought of surgery and the accompanying scars. I know there could be much, much worse. What can I say? I'm a little vain.