You know I'm recovering when I can blog

It used to be that whenever I fell ill, there would be loved ones (parents/ sisters/ close friends/ boyfriends) fussing over me. Now at a grand old age of 2X it's just me on my own. I was hit with a bout of illness two days ago, one that bulldozed me without prior warnings or symptoms and had me feeling so goddamn awful, I wished I was delirious so I wouldn't be so acutely aware of the pain of swallowing my saliva that it killed all attempts to rest. I woke up every two minutes and once, when I opened my eyes after sleeping for the longest time, I realized that I'd really been asleep for five minutes. Goodness.

Seeing that I couldn't rest anyway, I got up to do household chores. I cleaned the room, changed the bed sheets and ironed more clothes than I've ironed in a few weeks. If you know me, you would know what accomplishments those were (haha). And so I rewarded myself with three movies on my Powerbook, several homemade egg tarts and a huge stab of banana chocolate cake. I was on my way to putting back the weight I lost (if any) from eating plain porridge for three straight days.

I should be more disciplined but I'm not, so today, the third day after I fell ill, I've abandoned my antibiotics and all other medication. I am still coughing my lungs out and burning at 38.something degrees but the pain from the sore throat is gone (hallelujah), and the mucus from the cold is no longer free flowing (no more walking around with a box of tissues). Tomorrow I'm going for a marathon walk at 7 bloody-am because my dad just asks me so (he doesn't know I am ill). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'm finishing it in one whole, still-functional piece.