The other day I was coming home at 8am after a night of partying with a friend. As we walked through her hipster/hispanic neighborhood, we saw a small yapping dog. I never pet dogs that I don’t know and I loathe yappy dogs, but for whatever reason I decided that it was my job to calm it. I got down to its level and pet it and let it on my lap. And somehow its tooth ended up in my nostril!
As we walked away, I noticed that my nose was bleeding. A lot. I kept touching it, wondering how a small scratch from a dog tooth could make so much blood. When we got home, I washed out my nose with antibacterial soap and went to sleep.
Four hours later, I had to go to Boston. I was dead tired and possibly delirious, but I was convinced that I had rabies. And I’m too poor to afford the crazy shots you’re supposed to get. But I also didn’t want to die. And neither my friends nor their doctor friends could convince me that I didn’t have rabies. The entire four hour ride and most of the weekend, I kept going on about when I was going to start showing signs.
I was legitimately scared of dying from the rabies. I don’t want to die!