No food for you!

Starve a fever, eh? Oh I starved it alright. Monday night Pho started off alright, but as the night wore on, my body started to feel it. What had begun as a sporadic cough grew into a constant, body-shaking hack, accompanied by a complete congestion, and a total body-ache. By the time I got home and into bed, my body was starting to heat up exponentially. Morning was no better.

I was practically forced to shower in order to attempt to lower my body temperature, and despite popping the adult dosage of 2 extra-strength Tylenol, hack, congestion, and body-ache persisted. I'm not quite sure how I managed, but I survived a full day at work (though the hope had been to leave at 3--damn sales department!) and a gruelling hour-long trek home in traffic caused by the freak snow-storm.

As soon as I got in the door, I began collecting myself and all that I needed to be in bed with me. I climbed the stairs to my room and stripped out of my work clothes and straight into jammies. I crawled into bed and that's where I remained for 16 straight hours. Sixteen. Both mother and father made visits to my bedside offering me mugs of tea and warm water. I recall an attempt to return a few messages, and answering a brief phone call. Other than those and 2 trips to pee, I was bed-ridden.

I recall being both hot and cold throughout my consciousness, though regardless of how I felt, I refused to emerge from my duvet. I remember during bouts of semi-consciousness that I could hear myself softly groaning as I tossed and turned my head--my body was useless dead-weight. It was bad.

Having only had lunch the day before, and then having slept through entirely to the next day, I missed a couple of meals. Even when mother and father had tried to lure me out of bed with congee, I'd had to turn it down. So, the next morning, needless to say, I woke a little hungry. But my fever had broken, and despite the persisting cough and minimal congestion, I was better.

The consequences of starving your fever to get over it? You eat like a mofo afterwards. No joke, I haven't stopped eating since morning. A whole pot of congee, pizza, pasta, salad, dinner (chicken, rice, salad), bowl of noodles, apple, papaya, mango, and some chips. Eff.

Señorita told me that it was a good sign that I was eating so much; sick people have no appetite--healthy people have a healthy appetite. I told her it was nice of her to try to make myself feel better about eating myself fat.