Surviving the zombie apocalypse

I came to an extremely tough realization the other day:

I will NOT survive the zombie apocalypse.

 


The chart is right.  In the event of a zombie apocalypse most humans (except those Jamaicans and Kenyans) would end up as an extremely delicious meal.
But as a person with an autoimmune disease, I no longer have the luxury (not that I ever cared to take advantage when I was healthy, but still) of fantasizing about being Daryl in the event of a zombie apocalypse.  In fact, in order to survive any length of time I would be one of those people constantly raiding pharmacies hoping to find the medication I need, wishing my doctors would quit trying to eat me and treat me.

What happens when the medication runs out?  I would become a weak and slow moving target.  At the least, I would have the chance to bravely tell my friends in a bind to go on without me while I distract the zombies from their escape.

“wishing my doctors would quit trying to eat me and treat me”

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