i woke up with bad news written all over me. a web of aches on my shoulders. a wad of phlegm in my throat. as i slid off the bed, the marble floor felt like ice under my feet.
an hour later, i was at the office. dying. don’t ask me why i even went to work. or how i got there. or how i actually thought that i would make it through the day.
an hour later, i was at the clinic. the doctor sliding the thermometer out from under my tongue, telling me that if the fever did not break in the next 48 hours, i was to report immediately to the nearest government hospital.
an hour after that i was back home. dying on the living room sofa. watching suze orman tell oprah’s audience about her 2009 action plan. mom making chicken soup. my sister telling mom that there is no use feeding the dying.
J came later that evening with blue cotton candy and we watched rocko’s modern life together. he’s a wallaby, you know. it’s like a kangaroo. only smaller.
the night was awful. no sleeping position gave any sort of comfort. my throat waged an all out war against the prescribed cough mixture and i was almost sure that i would wake up with a hole in my neck. i remember that it rained that night, and between the thunder outside and the cannon blasts going on in my throat, i slump into sleep somehow, more out of weary than anything else.
fast forward three days later and not only am i in the clear, i was swung back right into action almost quite brutally. an early morning in the great subang traffic jam. a meeting on site. a seminar. and if that’s not a grand enough welcome back to real life package, i found out later that night that my spanish exam will be in exactly one week.
two days of being tugged for meetings later, i am back in the office. in case you’ve never seen my workspace, imagine this: an open office concept with low partitions. common pantry. common photocopy room. about thirty of us here at any one time.
and today, at least three coughers. and i’m not one of them. i’m a little afraid of being here. i thought of using one of those surgical face masks.
it is flu, it is a virus, don’t you know what a virus is? – my uncle, who is one of the foremost surgeons in the country tells me – you don’t need a face mask. you need a space suit. or a darth vader suit.
so thank you to all the well wishers. i’m back to being a starving writer and cynical corporate slave again. i’m still on antibiotics tho.
sorry to NL for not being able to meet before you went to the airport but that’s what FB is for.
sorry to the akurians for not being about to go for that japanese thing but RC will be back again at the end of the month. let’s plan a buka puasa thing.
and sorry to BT because i know that you tried so hard to meet up before going back to oz. the poor guy called me when i was at my utmost nyawa-nyawa ikan that friday. we’ll meet masa christmas nanti, okay?