My BBC Radio 2, yes, I’ve resorted to calling it mine now, I do feel an unhealthy connection to that radio station, keeps playing Christmas-y music. My neighbours have put up Christmas trees and the malls, who are always first to inform of every important holiday, are decorated with trees, tinsel and faux presents. With the Malaysian weather being a frigid 29 degrees Celsius, cold enough to warrant no fan being switched on *oooh* and a blanket to cover myself up as I watch the telly, you would think that I’d feel all Christmas-y.
No. Actually, I do very much feel like a Scrooge McDuck instead.
Well, actually, it’s kinda hard to feel Christmas-y when you’re down with some sort of superbug that has taken away the last week of November and now most of December. Well, I exaggerate. I am nowhere near super bug level, which would leave me isolated in a hospital away from my loved ones – but whatever it is I’ve caught, it certainly makes me feel like I. Am. Never. Going. To. Recover. It’s a bug powerful enough to make me cough up bloody phlegm, pant as though I’ve run a marathon when really, I’ve just gone for a cup of water in the kitchen and for me to break down in the shower, as I imagined my husband living a life without me when you know, I inevitably expire.
Never say I’m not overly dramatic.
However, I am actually finally recovering, with a severe dent in my wallet having seen the doctor three times and the pharmacist twice in a misinformed attempted to self-medicate. There are lessons can be learnt in this escapade.
Firstly, it is, never ever go to one of those chain clinics that your employers force you to go to. I do believe this is the single biggest reason why I became very ill. I took some, piss poor antibiotics that never actually killed off those bugs in me and after another misinformed decision of attending a kid’s birthday party, them bugs came back with a vengeance. So chain clinics may be free thanks to your employers but it’s just a lot more expensive in the long run.
And the second, when you’ve found a good doctor, keep going back to her – despite her antibiotics costing an RM 8 a pill. Nothing beats being able to breathe again and feeling like the skies are starting to clear and bunnies are frolicking in the field again.
So, I hope one would be able to understand, despite the ongoing recovery, I am feeling like a right curmudgeon and hence feeling not at all Christmas-y. I’m still coughing and I’m on a strict diet of no food from these three categories: nothing icy cold, nothing citrus-y and nothing sticky. Sticky being anything that can stick to your throat like peanut butter. Or worst of all, and especially around Christmas – no chocolates.
I’ve gone three weeks without chocolates now, and as the poor husband can attest, without a single chocolate chip cookie. There are many, many things wrong with the world.
But I suppose, as it is the way of the world, everyone else around me is feeling Christmas-y. My father who usually doesn’t care about these things has been watching Jamie Oliver’s Christmas special and wondered aloud if we could do something Christmas-y with turkey and stuffing, and pies, and puddings – his eye cast on me, the usual mad one with the hair-brained ideas of throwing odd parties.
Usually, I’d be the first start googling recipes and then plan something on Christmas Day, something with all the trimmings and the lovely cakes and pies but right now, though the thought may be palatable, unfortunately the energy is not there. I would love to bake an apple galette or a blueberry pie and stuff a chicken (I know, not quite the same, but my oven is too small for a turkey) but until I can warrant a chocolate bar, nothing seems worth living for.