When I was III……
Sickness means confinement. I detest-the idea of being sick, though there are many who eulogies the pleasures of being sick. For someone like me, who prefers to remain outdoors for most part of the day, sickness is a scourge that must be prevented at all costs.
However, sickness does not wait for one’s likes and dislikes. The other day, I got up feeling queasy. I. misunderstood this feeling as the outcome of lack of sleep. When it persisted, I knew, some sickness was in the offing. Surely enough I had an attack of influenza and was confined to bed for a week.
I was running fever. My face looked red and my nose was running. I was unable to go to my place of work. Though it felt awful to have to gulp down the medicine prescribed by the doctor, I cannot deny that I quite enjoyed my mother fussing over me. However, in the name of meals, I was given food that looked quite unpalatable, but was supposedly light and nourishing. Another thing that irked me was the question repeated by anyone who happened to come to the house, “what has happened to you? On being told that it was a ‘flu’ the quick rejoinder every time was, “it’s the season for ‘flu’ and the other infections”. Everyone suggested remedies and my mother insisted on truing out all. I felt like a guinea pig!
The whole week was spent in bed. I longed to go out and meet friends. I missed the joy and laughter in the office. At the same time, I realized how concerned my family and neighbours were about my well-being, though sometimes the thought of humouring the over concerned’ visitor did tire me.
