Thursday, April 22, 2004
I was down with an extremely strong bout of fever that kept me on the bed for 6 days last week. During these few days I was overcome by a sense of doom and helplessness as the headache and high temperatures refused to leave me.
From Wednesday when the fever started till Saturday, I was trying to nurse myself back to health but to no avail. I didn't want to go home basically for two (pretty silly) reasons: (1) I didn't want to further burden my mom who's already busy taking care of the household, and (2) I didn't want to spread my illness to my nephew (which I later found out was also sick even before I went home). So I stayed in my hall room, closed my door, and tried to minimize contact with the outside world because I needed rest. I thought I could take care of myself, being an adult and stuff.
Boy, was I wrong.
I give thanks to all my friends who showed concern to me during this period of sickness. Some of them dropped by and made sure I was cared for and bought food for me. Thanks dudes. Those were moments of sacrificial giving.
But then, nothing can replace the care from a mother. The mother's touch and love is magical and irreplaceable.
I finally could not bear the isolation on Saturday night. I admitted defeat and went home to my mother's TLC--I am not as "strong" as I thought myself to be. On the outside I was a full-grown adult equipped to fend for myself. On the inside I became that mommy's little boy, shivering and groaning, tormented by the fever.
I suddenly found myself back in the age of 8 and 10. Being fed again with the strong-smelling "cooling water" and herbal tea I used to hate back then but now drank with gratitude. Being brought to see the same doctor who attended to me when I was a child, in a place where time have may have done its work on the exterior but the people inside remains the same. I have not been to this part of my housing estate, where the clinic is, for more than 8 years now.
I was back Home. The place I grew up in but have since left during adolescence. Left for the neon lights outside my Home.
And it was at Home where I recovered faster than the many days in hall. All under the loving care and attention given by my mom.
If there's anything that I've learned because of this illness, it is that Home is where the refuge will always be.
From Wednesday when the fever started till Saturday, I was trying to nurse myself back to health but to no avail. I didn't want to go home basically for two (pretty silly) reasons: (1) I didn't want to further burden my mom who's already busy taking care of the household, and (2) I didn't want to spread my illness to my nephew (which I later found out was also sick even before I went home). So I stayed in my hall room, closed my door, and tried to minimize contact with the outside world because I needed rest. I thought I could take care of myself, being an adult and stuff.
Boy, was I wrong.
I give thanks to all my friends who showed concern to me during this period of sickness. Some of them dropped by and made sure I was cared for and bought food for me. Thanks dudes. Those were moments of sacrificial giving.
But then, nothing can replace the care from a mother. The mother's touch and love is magical and irreplaceable.
I finally could not bear the isolation on Saturday night. I admitted defeat and went home to my mother's TLC--I am not as "strong" as I thought myself to be. On the outside I was a full-grown adult equipped to fend for myself. On the inside I became that mommy's little boy, shivering and groaning, tormented by the fever.
I suddenly found myself back in the age of 8 and 10. Being fed again with the strong-smelling "cooling water" and herbal tea I used to hate back then but now drank with gratitude. Being brought to see the same doctor who attended to me when I was a child, in a place where time have may have done its work on the exterior but the people inside remains the same. I have not been to this part of my housing estate, where the clinic is, for more than 8 years now.
I was back Home. The place I grew up in but have since left during adolescence. Left for the neon lights outside my Home.
And it was at Home where I recovered faster than the many days in hall. All under the loving care and attention given by my mom.
If there's anything that I've learned because of this illness, it is that Home is where the refuge will always be.
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