Bite Me

Me and my big mouth. That wicked, wicked influenza virus did bite me. And it's still gnawing.

Four days after that ill-fated Batangas conference, I am still down with the flu. And the diagnosis is official, medical certificate, P82.00 per capsule (to take FOURTEEN capsules!!!) antibiotics, and all. Never did I foresee myself snacking on paracetamol, bromhexine, amoxicillin, cetirizine, guaifenesin, dextromethorphan, roxithromycin, etc etc etc in just one sitting. I am now officially a druggie.

With all the coughing and sniffing and sneezing and agonizing pain, a realization dawned on me: no matter how much money you make (not that *I* do), how many accomplishments you've attained, and how much good fortune you've aggregated, when you get sick (and/or bedridden) and you're alone, it just don't mean shit. When you're at your lowest, when you actually have to practically crawl out of your bed and excruciatingly drag yourself to the closest drug store and fast food chain (where it's freezing cold and loud) to buy your own medicine and food, you stop and tell yourself: why the hell did I insist on being independent, single, and ALONE?

Right now, I am in my province in Bataan, being taken care of my sister (who's got to be the bestestest sister in the whole wide universe). And although I can neither hug my adorable niece nor kiss my tomboyish daughter because I cannot allow them to catch my virus, being at home right now is still the next best thing to bliss. And no amount of independence, being single, and being alone can pit against that.