A few years ago, I was living on-campus and had been feeling really terrible, in a way that I'd never felt before. It was the middle of winter, the temperature was below freezing. It was snowing.
I was taking some pretty extreme classes and didn't really want to miss anything, so I decided to go to class anyways. The dorms I lived in were a bit away from the education buildings, sort of tucked into a corner across a little road, so it was maybe a 10-15 minute walk to class.
I had a rad scooter though, so it took me maybe 5 minutes. I reached the building, locked up my scooter, walked inside, felt like I was going to die, turned around, unlocked my scooter, and began to scoot back.
I made it about halfway home when I stopped being able to scoot. My path back took me behind the buildings through a small path in little garden, and that's where I was when I began to use my scooter as a stabilizer to keep me upright as I struggled to take one step after another. It was 8:50 and most likely nobody was going to be coming by for almost two hours. I dropped the scooter, fell down to my hands and knees and just laid there on the cement. I remember laying there watching the snow fall by my head on the cement, freezing, thinking that I was going to die there. That somebody would find me in two hours and whatever this sickness was, combined with laying on the ground in the freezing cold would have killed me.
I also remembering being charmed by the idea of dying alone in a garden during a snowstorm. Kind of a cool way to go.
Anyways, I laid there for like 30 minutes, gathered my strength, and was able to shuffle back home into bed. The trip took me 45 minutes when it normally takes me 5. Turns out I had mono. Not exactly known for killing people, but it was still pretty terrible at the time.
