Yesterday was hell in the office. I contacted a deadly colds virus and it left me slightly handicapped with work. My office mates were just concerned witnesses to my loud combo sneezing, my pale appearance and my bloodshot eyes. My nose already hurt from too much use of skin-unfriendly tissue paper. I was grouchy and I couldn't think. I tried going to the gym, but lasted for only 10 minutes that instead of releasing encouraging sweat, I released disgusting mucus. I ended up taking a cold shower and just drank strawberry shake at the lounge. When I got home, I couldn't even manage to type a single blog. I ended up drinking Pineapple Juice to sleep. That was yesterday.
Today I feel better and most importantly I can write, which means I can now organize my thoughts and I can think. There's still the dependency on tissue paper, but it's better than yesterday. Looking back, where did this sickness come from? It started last Monday afternoon, just when I picked up my CNT lechon and hung out one last time at Coffee Bean Ayala. It was at that moment that I knew that I'm finally going back home. I wasn't ready yet and I was suffering from too much food intake from that lunch buffet at Marco Polo. I never wanted to leave Cebu and probably my down morale contributed to my worsening physical scenario.
When I was ready to leave the airport, I was already on the road to doomsday. I began to consume rolls upon rolls of tissue. I began to sneeze combo sneezes, which holds my highest record of 7 loud consecutive sneezes. I began to chill and curse. It was that bad. But I went through the whole airport routine, checked in my baggage and just suffered stares from my co-passengers if I am a carrier of H1N1. I understand. I would've stared at myself too.
It also didn't help that I took the last flight back. I was dead tired, chilling at the plane and I swear I cursed so many times in my head. I told myself not to do the last flight out thing again. In fear of fainting, I clutched on my trolley while getting my check in baggage and called Mitch to pick me up immediately. Thank god he was already nearby. When I got home at 11 pm, it was an automatic rush to cleanse myself and get to bed. I didn't even bother to get all my clean stuff out the bag. I just slept. In the middle of the night, my mom woke me up and gave me medicine. She said I had fever, but for me all I was hearing was a distant mumble. I just thought that I need to rest to get to work. By 6 am sharp I woke up, wearing my gym attire, looking and feeling down as I began to unfold yesterday's hell.
It left me to thinking and also got people thinking. It seems that I always get terribly sick after a good vacation. Just like when I went to Roxas last July. I took a two day's leave because I had fever and the worse Swimmer's Itch ever. On my last trip last year, I also took a day's leave because of intense colds. And now this. People have began to notice it and they also know that I'm not faking, but damn if I could explain this. I always say to them that I always have a hard time transitioning coming from a good vacation back to my routine work, but it is a little bit exaggerated if I get deadly sick like this every single time. Joke is, I shouldn't go on vacations anymore. I should just work. It's a withdrawal from temporary happiness.
Psychologically it may have some contribution to my present state, but I'm sure it's not the core reason. I honestly believe it was pure coincidence. Last July, I waded in beach waters, which I initially thought I shouldn't have, and got swimmer's itch. Right now, I just contacted a virus going home, plain and simple. It's not rocket science and it wasn't planned. It was just unfortunate coincidences.
I might feel hell, but I know this wouldn't last and I feel slightly better now and ready to work. I've successfully transitioned and I could breathe and smell Manila again. Cebu is now just a happy memory that I'd relive whenever I get lonely. And I hope not to get sick, the nth time around.