Be Careful What You Wish For

Still miserable but better.

That's how I feel now.

If there is anything good that came out of my whirlwind affair with Streptococcal Bacteria, I believe there are two things: I lost seven frala-la-shmalooting pounds (at least that's what the bathroom scale tells me -- and it never changed its mind on me until today) and I'm a little de-stressed in life, simply staying home and enjoying the sickness excuse to not care about anything. I stare at the ceiling, I oversleep, I watch TV, I tinker on my laptop for as long as I want, I don't do chores, I vegetate, I reek of drool, I let body hair grow out, I skip on vanity regimen...and now I'm basking in a joyous moment surrounding an unexpected shedding of some pounds I've always tried to lose-- hoping that I don't gain them back overnight as I have a tendency to do so. I can't even eat. I've lost my appetite. Oh what a perfect world, isn't it?

But I ask myself, will I ever want to go through the same painful ordeal again? The same pain that controlled all of me, since the average number of swallows per hour of humans is 68±8. That's the same amount of exposure to pain per hour I got. More than one torture hit per minute. For 48 hours straight (including sleeping non-sleeping time)...and counting.

And my pain wasn't the typical tonsillitis pain I've encountered in the past. My tolerance might have deteriorated, yes, but I'm still sane enough to know that my judgement is valid. It hurt and it hurt like hell. And I've been enslaved by the power of Tylenol and Chloraseptic (oral anesthetic) for the past couple of days. Not having the bottles in sight was enough to drive me insecure. And they only relieved me by perhaps 25%. I also believed I have developed some kind of phobia for swallowing, or even just the thought of it. Imagine this, my body involuntarily cringes and physically recoils to an impending act of swallowing and in some occasions, I even had to count 1..2..3...go. I would end up bawling after sneezing episodes and I'd be miserable just with the thought of eating. Not to mention the headaches, fever and chills. And the Rheumatic Fever scare that I constantly worried about in my heart, and for my heart.

I remember that before the weekend, I had planned to call in sick at work so I can bring my visiting cousins around in the city (SF). I was seriously tempted to take the sick day because I knew I needed some time off to relax too and perhaps appease the crazy part of me that wants to play hookie at times. I've even contemplated on the details of my lie, feigning an illness that wasn't even there. It never panned out though due to some confusion in schedule and something urgent that came up at work.

Next time, I should really be careful with what I wish for. Because my wishes get granted. And I get them big time. And excruciatingly painful too.

God really has a good sense of humor.

This made me appreciate the spunk of those who are battling more daunting illnesses, and the stoutheartedness of those who are suffering, whether physical or emotional pain.

This one made me appreciate my life, perched in the normal bracket in the spectrum of life, having better health than most people, and days and days of smiles and pain-free living.

And yes, this one humbled me.