Infirmities (First English Post)

Dear Milo,

It is terribly unfortunate that the 15-17th blog lies on this day, on which my entry will be written in English. Currently, I'm nearly bedridden as a result of the malicious doings of the infirmities I have succumbed too. Already, I'm missing school and all my friends.

What should I write today? That's the thought that's pricking my conscience. Perhaps I shall give a brief overview of what has happened over the past two days, sans the mundane periods of hibernation.

After my "2 hours of sleep" night around 2 days ago, I was already beginning to feel a maddening itch that was galling my throat. I wasn't the only one it seemed. Ernest revealed to me before our badminton session that he was falling ill, while Tony and Mat had already fallen ill.

When night fell, I was literally feeling chills down my spine. As I arose, I was already feeling uncomfortable and figured that I had a fever. Well, a wave of felicity swept past me just for a while, as I figured that this was a great opportunity to clear up the gargantuan stacks of homework that has been terrorising me since the start of the week. Quite expectedly, the happiness was short-lived. When morning came, I was feeling so bad that I could hardly think at all. What constantly swept past my mind were the missed notes of Rach's Prelude No 23 and the sheer impossibility of playing the song properly. "How is it possible to play a g-flat major chord? How is it possible to use your last two fingers to play the piano?" It seems incredulous, but when you're stricken with a terrible malady, all thoughts are possible.

It didn't help that I read the book "Mind of God" in the morning, when I was not feeling so bad. The terms "determinism, causality, being, becoming, Quantum mechanics" took turns to manifest itself in my mind, naturally causing my head to spin.

With confusion and pain engaging in constructive interference in my mind, I tried my very best to get myself into a long slumber, during which I could be blissfully ignorant of the pain and discomfort. But the virus just wouldn't let me go.

In my mind, lectures on bacteriophages were messing up my mind once more, almost as if the viruses in my body were controlling my mind. When I arose after breaking a hard fought battle with my melatonin barriers, I felt even worst. I was feeling hot, yet cold. My head was spinning. My heart was pulpitating furiously. My throat was all raspy. Nothing seemed right, and I couldn't figure out what's right.

I found myself watching Nickelodeon and Disney shows on TV in the afternoon. Perhaps the release of such childish desires could somehow eradicate the pain inside me with its pure simplicity. But it was not to be. I found myself trying to comprehend what was going on, as if I was trapped in the toddler stage of my very own personal annals of history. Ironically, it didn't help that the shows were supposed to be funny, since humorous shows often involve undertones, sarcasm, and implication- higher order thinking skills.

Fortunately, I was able to get myself into a nice siesta in the late afternoon, and eventually night time. But the arrival of the night sparked another battle between mind and body. I know this is really peculiar, but my mind was building buildings and people. My mind conjured a structure, or a person, and following this, I arose, walked down the stairs, walked up again, and went back to sleep. This cycle repeated itself for quite some time, up till the point when the merciful Morpheus laid his hands upon me, and relieved me from my pain with the gift of fatigue.

As in all cases of fever, this, once again, was short-lived. I woke up in the middle of the night all uncomfortable and feverish. But at least I was thinking straight. I wished I could recover so that I could go for the class outing we had later in the day. I wished i could recover so that I could spend some time with my family. I wished I could recover so that I could practice for Sunday's band playing in Church. I wished I could recover to practise more piano. I wished I could recover so that I could go for the SV meeting and Astro meeting. I wished I could recover so that I could read all the Christian books that could be important in the future. So this was how it was like to be sick. It was the purgatory of the both the mind and body.

I woke up today feeling much better, but my temperature indicated otherwise. My temperature of 39.1 suggested that my battle with the viruses within me would continue and that more of my cells will probably be lysed with the propagation of both the lytic and lysogenic cycles.

Darn, I think too much! I remember how I never did well for comprehensions until I dumbed myself down before the start of each paper. I still wrestle with that problem with biology and chemistry, which indubitably has deleterious effects on my grades.

Currently, I'm having a temporary reprieve from the symptoms, even as my temperature continues to scale heights. But I guess this 'feverish experience' has been rather interesting. It has revealed a 'never before seen' part of my mind, or perhaps, the fallabilities of the human mind in times of pain and discomfort.

Wow, I guess that wasn't a brief overview. But anyway, till the next 15th blog, here is the English-tongued Aaron bidding you 'Au revoir'.