Poor me

Traumatised. Super traumatised.

Last Friday evening, I went for a stroll with J at Botanic Gardens after a very nice French dinner. We bought almond-coated Pocky and Pink Dolphin drink for dessert and were munching happily on one of the benches near the entrance of the park, admiring the very orange crescent moon (probably cos of the haze). Halfway through, my feet started to itch very badly, so I told J, "got mosquitoes, let's leave".

Sunday morning. AAAHHHHH!!!! Foot is so swollen and ugly! I don't believe it!! Why??!!! Out of concern (or fear, see picture below and you will understand why), my parents forced me to go see the doctor. I don't know why I was resisting. It just feels rather dumb to see the doctor over mosquito bites, unless it's dengue fever of course.

Taken today, worse on Sunday

Anyway, after saying a very sheepish hi to the doctor, I showed him my "elephant foot". His face turned very serious. He told me that I have an infection from the bites. Pointing to a red rash on my leg (imagine a shape like a streak of lightning), he said "See, this shows that the infection is moving up your leg. This is dangerous. Once it goes above your thigh, you will have to go to "Holiday Inn" for 2-3 days". At which I went dumbly, "Holiday Inn?", and he said, "ya, hospital".

*Freaking out*

Hospital? Hospital?? Go hospital for this?!! Amidst a moment of hysteria, I began mentally scolding J, cos he is the one who likes Botanic Gardens. Then I vaguely remembered that I was the one who suggested going...shucks!

To cut a long story short (and trust me, this is not the end of it), my doctor said he would give me strong antibiotics to get rid of the infection. Two types of antibiotics somemore...sob sob! One called "Clox" (15 capsules, 1 cap 3 times a day), the other called "Amoxil" (30*%^&*#^%%@!!! capsules, 2 caps 3 times a day).

I went home and took the medicine. No problem. Feeling fine apart from the swollen foot, which was starting to feel numb (pins-and-needles sensation).

Monday morning, woke up feeling weak and groggy, but I still decided to go to work. Just the foot mah I thought, as long as I don’t walk, it should be fine. Boy was I wrong. Not only was I unable to do much work, I was also slumped over my desk most of the time. I tried to make myself feel better by eating a bit of bread, didn’t work. After my lunch (a BK hamburger, silly J put it in the wrong cubicle. M was calling people to ask who had left it on her table), I felt worse. Acute gastric pain. Somehow I managed to struggle through the day. At 5 plus, I finally went to the toilet where I vomited part of my lunch.

Realising that there was no way I could make it home on my own, I called my parents who quickly picked me up and sent me home. Once I got home, my mum made a cup of milo for me, while my dad called the doctor and arranged to go meet him to ask him about my medicine. After drinking the milo, I went upstairs. The minute I reached the bathroom, I vomited the contents of my stomach into the sink, after which I collapsed onto my bed.

After a while, my mum prepared porridge and I managed to eat a bowl. My dad returned from the clinic with a 2-day mc and said that the antibiotics were too strong, which was why my stomach could not take it. He prepared some glucose and I took the antibiotics together with a new medicine from the doctor that is supposed to neutralise the acidic effect of the antibiotics. Unfortunately it didn’t really work. I vomited again. By this point in time, my parents began to panic. My dad kept trying to console me by saying things like "don’t worry, the doctor said as long as you don’t have fever, it’s ok" (cos I took my temperature earlier and it was ok). Upon hearing this, my mum decided to take my temperature again. 38.3 deg celsius. Great. Now I have to take panadol as well. Help ah!

Tuesday. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Too uncomfortable. Plus people tend to get really scared when they have no idea why their body is behaving in a certain way. But at least my fever has subsided. I couldn’t eat much though and only had a few mouthfuls of porridge and some biscuits. Lunch was the worst. I ate a few mouthfuls of porridge before collapsing onto the table, followed by the floor. I was too nauseous. The sight of food made me sick. Am ashamed to admit it but I started crying. No idea why, I guess I just suddenly wondered when I would be able to eat normally again.

J visited me in the evening. Very comforted.

Wednesday. Woke up feeling a lot better. But it didn’t last. Still very weak and giddy. Can’t stand/walk/sit up straight for long. Had hua2 dan4 fan4 for dinner. Vomited again…this is becoming boring…in a very sad way. My parents decided to take me to the doctor again. Just when we were about to go out, I got a pleasant surprise. J was in my house! He drove over after work to accompany me, but he didn’t know I was going to the doc’s. Poor thing, he accompanied me at the clinic from 2055 to 2200, and he has to work tomorrow. He read an article from the ST to me while we were waiting. It’s an essay which won second prize in an essay competition. The writer, a secondary school student, wrote about her dog, Milkshake, which had passed away. I started crying in the middle of the article. Like what J said, all dog owners would know what the writer went through. It was a very moving and honest piece of writing. I was very touched.

Saw the doctor. Showed him my albeit-less-swollen-than-it-was-on-Sunday-but-still-swollen foot. He told me it’s due to water retention. Sigh...as for giddiness and feeling weak, he said it’s due to the strong antibiotics. But he said I HAVE TO (sniff!) finish them. So he gave me 2 more days mc. Cos I tell you, if I go to work, I might just collapse in a heap in my cubicle. My doctor’s parting shot (delivered with a grin I might add, maybe his very small attempt to make me laugh): “your stomach cannot stomach it”. I could only grimace at him. Damn, I am feeling so shitty already he still got mood for wordplay. I guess he must be thinking of all that money he’s earning from me. $#@^%&!@$@!$#@$^#$!!!!!!

That’s it, no more Botanic Gardens for me in a long time to come. This is not the first time (it’s the second actually and I had to see the doctor the first time round too, involved pricking of stuff and pus oozing…enough said) that I’ve gotten bitten. I suspect it’s the same insect. It really doesn’t like me! or maybe it’s some karmic debt I owe it…ok, this could be the antibiotics talking…I better go sleep…