....since two weeks now.
Mountains of antibiotic pills surround me, in colourful aluminium packaging that is still not enticing enough for me to pop them. I have a fear of pills that surpasses all my other fears of injections, pigeons and even the absolute worst one; of dying alone. Pills just have a way of going down my throat in the wrong angle and getting stuck there and no amount of water/squished banana/chocolates/rice will take the pill down to my stomach, where it belongs. I stare at the needle that has been sitting in my skin for four days now and realise that it has become numb... The pain is so consistent that it has become status quo. I am so used it to it I don't even feel like it's there anymore.
I feel scatterbrained, with random thoughts flying in and out of my head, like I am high or something.....maybe I am...on the pain or the pills or just the feeling of nothingness. I stare out of the window at the tree branch laden with crystal clear droplets of rain. It has been raining continuously for the past three days here in Hyderabad and it takes me through a roller coaster ride of depression and elation as I look out of the window. My feelings make me queasy. Stuck at home, in bed, with frequent trips to the bathroom and no where else, I have had enough and more time to brood over my life. Nothing much came out of the brooding though. Went over the same thoughts and decisions a million times more, came up with a few more regrets or a few other ways I could have handled things in the past...bleh..
My mother has been freaking out about the insanely high fever I am suffering from and the way my eyes were hurting and watering. Mum and the servants were literally on 24-hour duty trying to put a cold, wet cloth on my body to try and bring the fever down. She refused to let me sleep alone and would take me to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I needed to. I was delirious with the fever and maybe even happiness at how much my family cared about me. A whole bunch of my friends and colleagues also came to see me. It really brought my faith back in the people I love. They love me back yaaaay!
It's good to fall sick once in a while, to take a little step back from the fast track lives we lead.
To feel weak, vulnerable and incompetent.
To feel like you need to be taken care of.
To just sit around with an empty schedule with time for yourself, to heal your body, soul and mind.
To get a reminder of how many people care about you and to remember to cherish and appreciate.
To get comments on your unpopular blog from your one(two, occasionally) regular reader about how much he would like you to write more often.
To see your co-workers' concerned yet happy faces when you return to work after a long break.
To get into a fight with your mum about wanting your fav dish to eat cos your taste-buds refuse to touch anything else when your are sick.
To notice the small things...like the sun streaming in through the window, like the texture of your mom's saree as she wipes your sweaty,feverish face with it, like the wrinkle on your dad's forehead when he holds your hand while the nurse puts an iv in your vein, like the little, wild flowers growing outside the bathroom windowsill, like the tangy, tamarind taste of the 'tomato rasam' that my servant makes for me when I am sick.
To fight, get better and give life another shot.
Note- This one is especially dedicated to fictitioustruth for really nudging me to write after this long hiatus. Also, forgive the lack of flow in this piece....but that's how my head is right now.... extremely lost and scattered.
