Did anyone tell you how humiliating it is to be sick?
Well, it is.
A month ago, if you’d asked me to describe myself, the first word out of my mouth would have been “paunchy”, immediately followed by “dazzling” and “starrocketawesome”. Well, now I can say none of those things. I can say “bony” and “famished”, but nothing more.
I’ll give you a background. I ate ravioli, mashed potato + cheese + tomato sandwich, diet coke and salad with mayo at a fancy restaurant. I also drank water from a random tank. I don’t know which made me fall sick. But I fell sick.
Since I had fever and headache, I thought it was just viral fever. Then I started shivering at odd times that also turned out to be regular – 3 am and 7 pm. So my parents and the doctors yelled malaria so loud I think they killed all mosquitoes in my area (which must have died of pure terror). If it WAS malaria, it’d have been ironic, given how I’m attending this event on Facebook.
That’d have been like the ultimate finger shown to me by the evil mosquito God, who’s probably humming and buzzing in maniacal, mosquito laughter right now. Why? I don’t know. I hate mosquitoes anyway. They’re retarded.
But it was not malaria. Oh no, why would it be?
It’s something much, much worse.
It’s typhoid. Do you know what that means? I’ll enunciate just what the doctor told me :
- Oily food.
- Spicy food.
- Hard food.
- Baked food.
- Maida ie Pizza and Maggi.
That’s a list of things I can’t eat. Do you know what that leaves me with?
Paper and pillows, probably boiled.
It’s unbelievable. I’m a crazy food junkie. I love eating. And this stupid bastard bacteria or whatever attacks the one place I’m apparently the weakest – my intestines. So I can’t eat anything.
Alternatively, they could just send me to Somalia, where I won’t be able to eat anything anyway.
I can eat everything actually, but my body won’t be able to process it and I’ll just turn over and die. Since I’m not really into the whole death thing, I’ll eat my bland newspaper and cushions for the next two months till I recover fully.
Personally, I did not enjoy my short stint at the hospital either. I was hooked up to an IV drip, which is basically a nurse inserting a tiny metal needle into your veins. At the time, it felt like she was Saddam Hussein trying to put a Scud missile into my wrists. It hurt.
It hurt a lot. More than the actual hurt of the needle, my ego was catastrophically damaged. I never imagined I could fall sick enough to be on IV, and when it happened, I was all ZOMGWTFBRO.
I was also repeatedly stabbed in my arms and my bums. (also called “injections”. Yeah right)
It may also help to take note of this list lest (GOD FORBID) any of you fall sick :
1. Hospital beds are never comfortable.
Hospital beds are not soft.
They smell weird.
And since you’ll be sick anyway, and you’re never comfortable when you’re sick, hospital beds are not comfortable.
I’m actually happy I was conscious enough to notice my discomfort and not totally passed out and not giving a shit.
2. You must lose all inhibitions.
I’m a shy guy. When the nurse pulled my shorts down to
attempt to murder inject me with Paracetamol (the first time), I was self conscious. I’m like, “Dude, my bum” and then I yelped in the pain of having a miniscule needle inserted for 10 seconds. Yes, I’m a wuss. But that’s not the point.
The point is, if you’re going to be shy about shit like this, you’ll never recover. I’d rather be naked in front of a bunch of doctors than not eat paneer butter masala and fucking pizza when its in front of my goddamned face.
3. You must forget House, M.D
When you’re sick, logic fails. I’ve watched wayy too much House M.D. So much that I expected that thing to go into my nose, whatever the hell that is. I actually even asked the doctor if they’ll take a “lumbar puncture” and I diagnosed myself (incorrectly) of having influenza, stomach influenza and gastroentitis.
I even thought I’ll “crash”, like the patients in House invariably seem to do always.
I wanted the doctors to sit and analyze what went wrong with me since they thought it was normal viral fever, then malaria before deciding its typhoid. You know, like House and his team “differentially diagnose” each patient they get.
Then, when I recovered, I felt like the worst fool on the planet. Of course that stuff is stupid. Even if it isn’t stupid and possible, House is an extremely good doctor and takes only the rarest of the rare cases where the patient responds weirdly to treatment.
For the rest of the normal sick people, there are normal doctors who will cure you normally and not stare the freaking disease out of your system.
So yes, if you have a over-fertile imagination, plenty of time and watch House, don’t fall sick.