Monday, September 21, 2009

Eid Mubarak. -_-

My memories for the past few days comprise of cough syrup, anti-allergy medicine, Panadols, green tea, honey, lemon, salt water gargles.... basically, anything that will rid me of this horribly disgusting flu that I seem to have caught. Apparently it's one of those "viral" thingies ( I hate that word, something always happens to me whenever I hear it's around.) that come and go as they please, so my efforts towards curing myself might as well be going down the drain.

My time is divided evenly between coughing, sneezing, spending quality time with my box of tissue paper, sounding like a foghorn and, when I have the luxury of it, sleeping. Unfortunately, all these funny medicines make me want to zonk out within an hour of me having taken them. Today was the first day of Eid, and I sedated myself with lots of sleepy-drugs and went out with the family trying to, but failing miserably at, looking like a happy cookie. I didn't even care that everyone complimented my sister on being dressed up like it was her wedding. The few times I did open my mouth to speak, my voice put me off so much that I had to shut up and devote myself to smiling inanely at random people. ( Random people I know, not random as in Walking-On-The-Sidewalk-So-I-Whistled-At-Them random.)

Apparently, even that little bit of talking was too much of a strain for my delicate throat. And this being the same throat that has vocal chords capable of jabbering on for hours, and hours and hours. Just imagine me not talking. Can you? I can't either. I came back home and I was almost croaking. So I drugged myself a little more, and went to bed. And here I am, up at 4:30 am, wide-eyed enough to be blogging. When I'd woken up, I thought my throat had miraculously healed itself because I could talk and I didn't sound so bad. It didn't even hurt. But about 40 minutes later, it's back to square one. Whoever said sleep fixes a sore throat can just go suck it. It doesn't.

Then there's my mum, who seems to think I'm about to drop dead every single time I fall ill, which is at least once a month ( I found this out because Abdul and Aki were talking about how often I seem to be ill, and once a month was their average). I think she should, by now, be used to the fact that I have a screwed up immune system and I won't eat desi ghee ke parathay to fix it. She thinks it's because I didn't eat pakoras this ramadan and constantly reminds me of how I was a healthy and happy (Read fat and ugly) kid. At least my face doesn't look like a balloon anymore.

Also, I'm convinced that I'm jinxed. This time, I have RotMUN starting on Thursday. When I had typhoid, I couldn't be in the school play. Everysingletime I'm about to do something fun, I fall ill. Divine intervention, karma or does someone really, really hate me?

I wouldn't know.
I want to talk again. =(

2 comments:

arataster said...

RORMUN ROTMUN ROTMUN ROTMUN ROTMUN ROTTATATATAAOTMUNNNNNN *double-flips*

Maryam said...

Tum. Bol nai sakti. Yeah, right. Don'tbaleeve-eet, no.