Categories
Rant

Dengue Fever

Guess what: I had dengue fever.

Does that sound terrible? That’s because it is terrible!

It started off like a bizarre sensory issue that slowly crept on me one afternoon on the beach in Tahiti. The sand began to feel rougher, like it actually hurt the soles of my feet. From then on, all hell broke loose in my body. My lower limbs became extremely sensitive. Water, air, my clothes—everything just felt weird against my skin.

What followed was a series of sleepless feverish nights and the invasion of a feeling of exhaustion so shattering that it made me wonder if this was how I felt when I got COVID. This must have been worse. At least with COVID I could force myself to go out on a short walk. This time, I could hardly make it to the bathroom.

My appetite vanished altogether, replaced by disgust over foods I had raved about only days before. Canned spinach suddenly turned bitter, fried eggs were bereft of flavor (and dealing with the sole texture was quite daunting). The mere thought of an omelette was absolutely repulsive to me.

One particularly cruel aspect of dengue was how thirsty it made me, while at the same time rendering water sickly sweet in my mouth. After much mulling over (because turning in bed toward the nightstand in order to reach for the water bottle was already in itself an ordeal), I couldn’t bear to drink more than a tiny sip at a time, because I couldn’t stand the taste. I was seriously parched, but I just couldn’t bring myself to take a big gulp. Even as I’m slowly regaining my strength, I’m approaching the water bottle with caution.

Although the symptoms appeared to relent the day we flew back, I almost fainted on the flight to San Francisco—it was not my first time passing out, so I tried to ease myself into it, hoping to eventually emerge unscathed on the other side. I did not lose consciousness, but did have two episodes of diarrhea and threw up once. I begged for water, but the flight attendant said I’d have to wait. (He then brought two glasses of water instead of one, so he did take some pity on me.) I shuffled in my seat but found it impossible to fall asleep. The remaining flight time indicator on the screen became unbearable to watch.

Coming back home offered little solace, except for the reassurance that I would now get the blood tests the doctor in Tahiti ordered when the fever did not subside overnight as I hoped. I spent Christmas and New Year sleeping, or rather, trying to sleep. I tossed and turned in bed, or at least tried to, or at the very least grappled with the need to do so to take a sip of nauseating water. Every few minutes I was awoken by a thirst that was never to be quenched.

When I finally regained the ability to sleep, I started dozing off at random moments throughout the day. Thankful that January is usually a slow month, I just let my body do what it needed.

After so many days without food, it was to be expected that I’d lose weight. Certain clothes of mine suddenly fit better, but that was nothing to rejoice about. So much of my strength was gone. I still can’t open jars, and things slip out of my hands because I’m so weak.

Doctors (my uncle included) have told me this is a mild case, but if that is so, I do not want to imagine what a serious case looks like. They have warned me, though, that I cannot contract dengue fever a second time, because that will be much, much worse. At any rate, I’m just patiently waiting for my body to finish this battle. When I can finally take a long walk at a decent speed, I’ll be the happiest person in the world.

Categories
Rant

Fingerprints Like Ancient Maps

Today I had my second fingerprinting appointment. The final test. Would I prove capable of producing a decent enough fingerprint for the machines to recognize once and for all?

As a matter of fact, I did!

On the screen, my fingerprints looked like ancient maps, barely legible and crisscrossed with wrinkles. Still, even with a weird hole in the middle of one of the images—nail polish residue?—, the System accepted my fingerprints this time around, and the process moved swiftly into the next phase.

I didn’t even want to believe the lady at the office when she said the fingerprints had been accepted. We both cheered when the acceptance notification popped up.

My hard work paid off, even if my keyboard is now all shiny and slippery from all the hand lotion.

Categories
Rant

Ridges Prevail

I have resigned myself to my fate, and my fate is to have unreadable fingerprints. I’ve been moisturizing like crazy, but no sooner have I applied lotion than my skin returns to its normal condition: bone dry. Rango under the sun dry. I had never stared so much at my fingers before. Deep ridges traverse my fingertips like violent scars, like the surface of Europa.

There’s not much more I can do to force my hands to produce acceptable marks. And now my computer keyboard is all shiny. Ugh.

Categories
Rant

Not a Poet

This blog has three post categories: poetry, fiction, and rant. It’s been quite a while since I last used poetry or fiction. I once considered myself a potential serious writer of poetry/fiction, but eventually I realized that was not the direction my life was taking. After all, try as I might, I never could come up with a good plot for a story—or even a full plot, for that matter. And poetry… it just fizzed out. Unfortunately, I also stopped ranting, which is always good linguistic practice. I did not view it that way back then, as I took my English proficiency for granted.

For the briefest moment, after writing that last sentence, I wondered if I should try my hand at poetry again. Most definitely not. The sensibility, if I ever had any, has disappeared.