Last whole week I remained in my bed. I was actually suffering from chicken pox and was told not to touch anything other than those that had been separated out only for me, and neither could I go for work, for the disease is one of the highly communicable ones. I was not to even sit on a bed other than mine.
Also, the pox had made me so weak that I could not gather up enough strength to carry me through. My diet had been confined to cold liquid stuffs and the like, for the digestive system also gets weak when you suffer from the disease. It sucks! Ain’t it?
Normally, my mom and granny would have never let me take those pills that I took. As I lived alone and had never met such troubles earlier, I went to a doc and he did the thing that he does(prescribe medicine and take fees). Oh! My currencies!!!!
One after another, the red round swollen thing(where the pox germs were sitting) turned black and dried, inflicting light pain in the meantime. At times, one of them burst out with blood oozing out and making me suffer from intense pain. But the worst part was that I had a pox on my wrist and index finger which restricted me from using a pen or keyboard, although I could read a book. Thanks God for that!
Ideas and feelings all sailed through my mind, and I kept resting in my bed, though restless from inside. No Fiction Friday, no blogging, no diary writing, nothing of my best choices. They say that I was lucky for having escaped of a permanent mark over the face as they don’t go away so easily. But only I know what I lost in these days as a trying writer.