I am writing here after a long long time. I was down with an extravaganza of an illness recently. The doctor diagnosed it as malaria with a borderline case of typhoid. I diagnosed it as a terrible terrible thing to happen to me.
For three weeks, I had nothing but hydrocarbons and synthetic compounds dressed like harmless white and red and brown tablets for company. An assortment of these tablets - up to six or seven in number - made their way into my stomach and God knows where else every one of those 21 days. I could not complain. I wasn't even in a position to complain. All I could do was sleep, get up, take dosages, sleep, get up, feel depressed, and think I need to re-organize my life. In between all this, I would pray wholeheartedly to the Lord above that He not take me just yet, and then I would hope my prayers are heard!
Well, as luck and my constitution would have it, they were.
By the end of Week 3, I was reduced to half my size - or probably three-fourth of what I was. My trousers - once skin tight - now crumpled into little folds as I wore them. And I could see how vehemently my cheek bones insisted on poking their noses out of my cheeks.
Amidst all those observations, I also observed that I had survived. Which, given the frail self that I am, is no mean an achievement to boast about!
For three weeks, I had nothing but hydrocarbons and synthetic compounds dressed like harmless white and red and brown tablets for company. An assortment of these tablets - up to six or seven in number - made their way into my stomach and God knows where else every one of those 21 days. I could not complain. I wasn't even in a position to complain. All I could do was sleep, get up, take dosages, sleep, get up, feel depressed, and think I need to re-organize my life. In between all this, I would pray wholeheartedly to the Lord above that He not take me just yet, and then I would hope my prayers are heard!
Well, as luck and my constitution would have it, they were.
By the end of Week 3, I was reduced to half my size - or probably three-fourth of what I was. My trousers - once skin tight - now crumpled into little folds as I wore them. And I could see how vehemently my cheek bones insisted on poking their noses out of my cheeks.
Amidst all those observations, I also observed that I had survived. Which, given the frail self that I am, is no mean an achievement to boast about!
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