Take an aspirin and call me if you don't survive.
Ah.. I'm sick.
Not the xiang3 wai1 type of sick, but the really really ill type of sick. Started from somewhere in between Tuesday and Thursday. Couldn't be sure.
I woke up in the middle of the night and started to shiver. The air con felt much colder than usual. I ignored it and decided to try to sleep again. But it kept coming, coming, coming. I couldn't stop shivering. I went outside my room and lay on the living room sofa where it was warmer.
Shiver, shiver, shiver.
I couldn't stop. It wasn't the cold. Not from outside. I felt too cold on the inside.
For the first time in my life, I felt scared about being sick. It really was scary. I was getting too cold on the inside. And I can't do a thing. I woke my mother and told her that I was shivering non-stop. She hurried me to the kitchen. I sat down on a chair and lay my hands and head on the table, where I continued to shiver.
Rattle, went the table. Rattle, rattle, rattle.
That was my mother's cue to be afraid. She put a cup of warm water in front of me, and kept asking me worriedly what's wrong. I said I don't know, and sipped a little from the mug. Drop by drop I felt the warmth flow down. But it didn't work. Every one delved deep into the cold.
Disappeared, shattered, consumed.
Shiver, shiver, shiver.
Rattle, rattle, rattle.
I felt worse every passing moment. What's going on. Why am I shaking. Why is it so cold. I can't stop shivering. The cold's growing. Growing every moment. Every passing moment.
(Highlight if you aren't too scared of disgusting descriptions. If not, skip it. I'm serious.)
All of a sudden, I ran to the sink and threw up. Alot. It came through my mouth, and it came through my nose. For those five seconds, it felt like my stomach and intestines were turning inside out at the same time. Kind of like how you would squeeze the very last bit of toothpaste out of the tube. Only worse, and more painful.
After those excruciating moments, I breathed as if I almost suffocated and drowned. My stomach felt weak, and so were my legs. My mother quickly came over and patted me on my back, and turned on the tap. I went to another toilet to wash myself up. The rest of the night (or was it day?) was sleepless. I spent most of it sitting in front of the sink, feeling that any moment I would throw up again. I did, twice in fact, before going back to sleep.
The next day, I woke up. I couldn't move properly. It took all my strength just to turn myself over. And that was all. I was burning up all over, and my mother told me to continue sleeping. I had a fever and, by the looks of what happened yesterday, food poisoning to go with it. Yipee.
I groaned. Now what would happen to my IDMI. And third lang CA. As I though, I slowly fell asleep again.
It was only in the afternoon when I went to the doctor, and in the state that I was, I could've been knocked down by the Batmobile painted pink and still be unaware of what happened. Luckily, my mother was there to help me along, and nobody wanted to pull a prank on Bruce Wayne. The doctor was a nice man, and at least I got the medicine I needed. The rest of the day was spent the same as the morning. Lying in bed.
Horrible experience, and still feeling the aftermath of it.
posted by someone who stopped to think at
05:16
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