For once, I thought I was really invincible against simple colds and coughs. I've been climbing mountains seriously for the last two years or so in sometimes really harsh conditions of exhausting heat in the lowlands and blustering wind and rain up in the mountains, but I have never really gotten sick. I guess I must have been loved after all.
The worst was when I got my dose of high altitude sickness after pitching my tent on the designated campsite on Mt. Pulag, the highest mountain in Luzon. We recorded the temperature to be around 8 degrees Celsius during the night and it was so cold. I just slept afterwards. My climb buddy woke me up hours later with a steaming soup and few spoonfuls of our lovely dinner. He had to feed me literally at times since I was just to weak to coordinate my movements. But it was gone in the morning. I was able to wake up ahead of the others at 4am ready for our assault on the mountain's peak.
Yesterday, I took a leave from work because I had the worst-sounding coughs. It was so bad I thought I was meant to stay indoors for a day or two. Otherwise, I would end up miserable in a humiliating self-pity when I see people run for cover as soon as they hear a wheezing sound thinking it's some firecracker about to explode. You see, I feel that my lungs would burst everytime I cough. I sometimes have to hold my chest as I cough to partly relieve some discomfort. I am on antibiotics now so I hope I'd be fine soon.
Anyone who lives alone should never get sick. This has always been my prayer. And I mean it deeply. The despicable feeling of being alone is heightened when you get sick and there's just you in the room. The feeling is not for those with a weak heart. No matter how strong you project yourself to the world, when that time comes, you're practically reduced either to some cursing bitch trying to question things and order in this world, or you suddenly become meek and just tear-wet the pillows in deep sadness.
In the few times that I reflected about life's humor, this came to me: The private confines of one's bedroom has this extraordinary privilege to invigorate and refresh and at the same time reduce any superman or superhero into one helpless creature.
No hero or no superman can survive the mighty and lethal powers of an abandoned room with just you, your thermoter, and your Kleenex.
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