Sister Mary Coricidin

The Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College Infirmary, back in the day, was run by Sister Mary Coricidin.  Of course, that wasn’t her real name, but that’s what we all called her.  I needed Sister Mary Coricidin this past week.

There are certain experiences that, when reflected upon, give you some comfort.  My Junior/Senior year, as the fall semester was ending, I got sick.  It was the pathetic, I’m just going to die in my room covered in snot and no one will find me for days kind of sick.  I had moved to Guerin Hall that year and, while I was separated from the more active dorm, it proved to be a blessing in this case.  The Infirmary was in the same building.

One morning, in the depths of my misery, I toddled my sorry butt to beg for healing from Sister Mary Coricidin.  In a sun washed room (maybe I was hallucinating), she took my temperature, gave me some Coricidin, fixed me a lovely plate of scrambled eggs, told me I probably wasn’t going to die, and sent me back to my room.  I didn’t die.  She performed a miracle.

Fast forward to the present, when The Vessel Whose Purpose is to Annihilate Me, henceforth known as The Vessel, developed a cold similar to what he had last year.  (Picked up, no doubt, in the plethora of health facilities we continue to frequent on a regular basis.) Apparently, my survivor mode immune system was on watch then.  Not so much this year.

Having not been ill for over three years, I don’t think my body knew what the hell happened.  Sadly, I had no Sister Mary Coricidin to turn to.  Luckily, I did have love and a hug in a can.  I thanked myself for picking up some Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup “just in case.”  Thanks, Campbell’s (and DayQuill, and Robitussin, and Mucinex ). 

Sister Mary Coricidin, wherever you are, you couldn’t be replaced by a can.  But, sometimes, in your most miserable moments, you’ve got to get love and hug any way you can.