It started when Eder came home feeling a little woozy and was whining about an itchy throat. “Must be the haze,” he said grumpily. I quietly dismissed the grump, or as we say in the Philippines, dedma lang.
When I woke up the next morning, turned over and instinctively placed the back of my palm gently on his neck, I knew then that his “man-flu” was legitimate. I shook him gently and told him to take his temperature. Still groggy but like an obedient child, he got up and, a minute or so later, came back and pushed the thermometer towards my face. 37.5°C. Low-grade fever. Then he curled back under the covers.
It took him all of two days to recover from the fever, but it was three nights of hell for me, as the snoring (which can be quite THE snore when inflammation occurs) was too much for a light sleeper like me to bear. But the patient and understanding wife that I am, I took it all in stride. Sigh.
Here’s the kicker, though. A couple of days after his ordeal, I noticed an itchy throat. I told him about it and yes, he said it. “Must be the haze.” It wasn’t long before I was getting woozy and feeling completely out of sync. But here’s where we’re different. My temperature climbed to 39°C. I was coughing like a dying cow, and my body felt like it had aged 20 years, with aches that made it difficult to move from one side of the couch to the other.
At the clinic, I specifically asked for medication that would knock me out. None of the non-drowsy kind, thank you very much.
So for three days, I was completely out of commission. I lost three days of drawing. Three days of reading. Three days of doom-scrolling, which probably wasn’t a bad thing. And three days for the meds to do their thing — which, as it turned out, felt like I was stuck in a sauna. I was changing out of my sweat-laden clothes several times a day. At one point, I contemplated just stripping down but was convinced otherwise by Google.
When the fever finally broke, I thought that was the end of the ordeal. But then post-fever fatigue hit. Limp and lethargic — that was my body for the next three days after the battle it had apparently just gone through. Clearly, my body needed some time to recover from the war it had waged.
That’s the difference between how Eder and I handle sickness. He gets sick fairly regularly but recovers just as quickly. Leah, on the other hand, doesn’t get sick often, but when she does, she comes with all the bells and whistles.
Was it really the haze? Eder still seems to think so. I’m just glad we’re all better now. And, more importantly, we can sleep better.
For those who need to know, Singapore has been dealing with a bit of haze lately, with the PSI occasionally venturing into unhealthy territory. The latest updates can be found here – because apparently we now need to monitor the air before deciding whether we’re actually sick. Haha. But seriously.
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