When you get sick, don’t blame yourself

A few months ago, my doctor noticed a small but noticeable drop in my temperature.

My doctor told me that the temperature was “lower than normal,” and suggested I seek medical attention immediately.

I had just returned from a maternity leave, and was preparing to leave for a week trip with my husband.

I was excited about the upcoming trip, and wanted to take my husband on the first day.

But I felt terrible.

I’d had no symptoms for a couple of weeks, and I wasn’t feeling well.

I started to wonder why.

The day after I returned to work, I found myself on a train to London.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a fever and had to stay at home for a few days, so I could continue to receive care from my doctor.

When I returned home, I was diagnosed with a very rare condition: acute respiratory distress syndrome.

This is when a person experiences a sudden, overwhelming increase in respiratory distress that can last up to three days.

I didn’t know what the heck was going on, so it took a while for me to finally understand why I was having so much trouble breathing.

While my husband and I tried to get my symptoms under control, I tried not to think about what had happened to me.

At first, I thought it was the flu, and that I needed to stay home to rest and recover.

I even called my doctor, who explained that it was a common case of a person getting very ill after a long vacation.

Then my symptoms started getting worse, and the symptoms got worse every day.

By the end of the week, I could barely breathe, and my husband could barely talk.

The doctor told us that we could get sicker and sicker until I went into shock, so we decided to take the trip with him.

The next day, I felt the flu again, and it felt worse and worse.

It was only the second time I’d felt it in nearly a year.

At that point, I went to my doctor and told him that I didn: “I don’t know how I can make it through this,” I said.

“I’m in a terrible situation, and nothing I do can help.”

I also told him, “I have no idea what to do.”

He told me to get tested, but when I asked him if he was going to do anything, he said, “No, I’ll just send you a letter.”

I didn, and when I got home from work, my symptoms only got worse.

By that time, my temperature had dropped to 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and after about a week, it was too late to go back to work.

My husband and we stayed home the entire week.

After about two weeks, I realized that something was seriously wrong.

When we returned to my workplace, I started feeling a lot of the symptoms again.

My body temperature spiked and my blood pressure was up.

When my temperature returned to normal, I had to be hospitalized and had the doctor check me every three to four hours for a fever, sore throat, cough, and a mild fever.

At the hospital, they told me I had a severe case of acute respiratory syndrome, and they suggested that I go home.

My family didn’t believe me at first, so they decided to drive me to the hospital to get me checked out.

The doctors gave me antibiotics to try to slow the symptoms down, but it was not enough.

When the antibiotics started to fail, I began having severe coughing and a fever that I could not stop.

I would not stop coughing and vomiting, and there was a constant stream of mucus coming from my nose and mouth.

My condition worsened rapidly, and within a few hours, I passed out on the operating table and died.

As my condition worsened, I became less able to speak.

I also started to feel a lot more sick, and at one point, my eyes started rolling.

By this time, the symptoms were so severe that they were nearly impossible to breathe.

After the doctors took me to a hospital emergency room, they found a CT scan that showed the CT scan taken on my phone.

It showed that I had two large lumps on my brain that had ruptured and had taken over my brain.

As the doctors examined me, I still had a large amount of fluid in my blood, and even after the doctors were done, I continued to feel very sick.

The symptoms continued to worsen, and by this point, the doctors realized that I was in very serious, and very dangerous, trouble.

They asked me to stay overnight at the hospital.

I refused, and as I walked out of the hospital room, I yelled out my last words: “My doctor will not let me go!”

The next morning, I woke to find that I’d lost my job, and since I was not able to pay my rent, I spent a week in a homeless shelter.

By now, I’d spent nearly a month in