Head and Neck Injuries

It's hard to tell from the picture, but this is a stretch you have to do after you almost break your neck.

Kim landed on her head when she was tobogganing on Monday. She neglected to tell anyone about the concussion at the time (I wasn't there), so I took her to see a doctor yesterday afternoon when she told me. Thus, I spent a large chunk of Thursday afternoon in the medicentre instead of finishing my Dickens essay. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
Thankfully, she's not seriously injured (only a sprain), but she makes squeaking noises now. Don't ask me what that's about.
Also, Dr Hales knew that I was behind on the essay (because of grant applications et cetera) so this morning she told me not to freak out. Great, now that I've already spent an entire sleepless night working on it, now she tells me not to worry about handing it in this week.
Why do I do this to myself? I've been staring at my laptop all week, and I've still only got two pages of this thing properly typed. Is it the lack of consequence that makes me so apathetic? Am I uncommitted to the essay because it represents a lifestyle I hate?
Am I becoming a nihilist? Lord, save me if I am.
That can't be it. I love this essay. This is the most brilliant essay I've ever written. I could talk for hours about extroverted introspection and doppelgängers.
I feel sick. Maybe I ate too many of those mini coffee crisp bars last night. Maybe I shouldn't have put that egg in the soup. Maybe I'm becoming a consumptive. Does apathy lead to TB, or melancholia? I can't remember anymore.

On the plus side, Dr Peet read some Sartre this afternoon. There's nothing like a little bit of lecturing on condemned freedom and personal responsibility to brighten an unproductive day.