Then, a new red flag. My tonsils were acting up. Phooey, I thought. Now, this I could manage. I've had sporadic tonsilitis since childhood; I abstain from anything cold and sweet and it goes away. But now, the pain in the throat came with fever and headache, one that increasingly felt as if an insect was skittering all over the exposed nerves at the back of my head.
Back at the doctor's (a different one this time--the lot of us hostage to HMOs), who also shook his head and said, you were prescribed steroids, kaya bumaba ang immune system mo. That's how you got infected by bacteria. Here, take amoxycillin, 500 milligrams, 21 tablets, but you have to complete the treatment. No skipping, otherwise the bug will grow resistant to the antibiotic. Also, no sweets. Sure, cold water is okay, but not ice cream and softdrinks. (Opo, Doc. Wait, pwede pala ang malamig. So Pop and Nanay have been wrong all this time, hohoho.)
Since it's summer, and daytime is unbelievably hot and humid inside my room, I followed the doctor's advice for bed rest for only one day. I couldn't stand more than that. I felt marginally better every time I showered and moved about. Rather than melt into a puddle in my room (leaving only my exposed left swollen tonsil lounging in bed), I've been dragging my ragged, leaden carcass to work. Which is, fortunately, only two blocks away from my house.
No bratty tonsils or late-appearing allergies (or hearing Something in Your Eyes on the radio--pehleez, Dusty Springfield sang it much better) will have me chained in bed, doing nothing. I refuse to submit to these obnoxious annoyances. I'll swallow every pill, drink any foul potion, learn to pray again, just to beat them--but I won't give in by wallowing in my sickness.
I'd even abstain from Krispy Kreme. Yesterday afternoon two boxes were sent to the office, sending everyone flocking to the table. O Gibbs, kumuha ka na, baka maubusan ka, cooed an colleague. I gave the speaker the evil eye, pronounced a curse on her to listen to Claire de la Fuente on her iPod ad nauseam, and surveyed the mockingly sinful donuts.
Yum. I swallowed involuntarily. Aray! Leche. Death to donuts as well.