Three days since I got this damn thing and the depression is beginning to kick in.
When I got the chickenpox, I reasoned that the time off would be an ideal way to catch up with uni work and assignments, get some quality reading done and perhaps even devote time to practicing guitar. But alas. The backache that was symptomatic of the ‘pox has only gotten worse, meaning that I can’t sit or lie down for long periods.
On the brighter side of things, friends from work call from time to time to check on my state. R, the guy who was down with the pox earlier this month called and apologized profusely for infecting me with the illness. I told him to forget about it. He then offered some tips to get through the nightmare including this not-so-subtle warning: “Machang, just remember one thing: don’t, err, play with yourself for the next two weeks. Trust me. It won’t be pretty.”He was on speaker phone when he said that.
All I needed at that time was a mental image of R, blisters and all, dancing with himself.
Dammit.
On a weirder note, my parents insist that I’ve gotten the pox before. Is it possible to get it twice? What are the chances?
Categories:
Tags: chickenpox, depression
