My Flu Story

    Thought you’d heard the last of me, did you? Well sorry to disappoint you, but I am the “proverbial bad penny” that shows up when least expected! As you can see, I didn’t quite fall off the face of the earth, just back after a looooong hiatus, thanks to a host of happenings, the latest being anything but a romantic whirlwind with Mr.Flu!  No guarantee though that I won’t go into my ‘writing hibernation’ again, much as I would love to sit in my cozy corner, ruminating…writing. Think I’ve already apprised you of the fact that I belong to the almost extinct ‘long-hand’ generation. Putting pen to paper generates a force so powerful that thoughts and words dance in unison “And this blank page where my fingers move …” suddenly find “The page is printed” (Ted Hughes’ “The Thought-Fox”). So here I am, flu et al! Looks like I had a good taste of every childhood illness. You name it. I had it. Chicken pox, measles, mumps, the works! And they were all mine not even for the asking. But once I crossed the tender threshold of childhood, my immunity skyrocketed. And that was how it was for a good many decades.  I heard stories from a few friends who proudly said that they fell ill only twice a year, but that each time it lasted six months!

      Jokes apart, for the most part, my adult immune system is rather tough, structured – active, energetic, and basically full of beans, the “bull” of the family – but all it takes is a rare visit from Mr. Flu (whom I am now beginning to think is pretty enamored by me), his painfully loving arms wrapped around me in a suffocating embrace, and I’m done for, at least for two weeks if not more. Lying in bed swaddled, more like a sack of salt, I would try not to wallow in self-pity. Being the incurable “fuss-pot” that I was (am), being sick means oodles of TLC – tender, loving, care! 

      Reminds me of my growing years, when I was a fussy child (please note, I have changed for the better over the years, or may be the years have changed me), picky with my food, a weakling albeit an athlete, and if I ever saw a drop of blood on a scrape on my knee, would cry like the world was going to end! But nothing prepares you for throes of childbirth!  I think I did fairly well both times, when my “Bundle of Boy Joys” made their appearances, despite not being gifted with a ‘high threshold of pain’ like my best friend, their Dad.

   Coming back to my recent dog days with Mr. Flu, well, he caught me unawares. Guess that’s his modus operandi. Here I was up until the other day, as fit as a fiddle, waking up the next morning only to find Mr. Flu has moved in, lock, stock and barrel! Funny as it sounds, but while the rest of me was burning, my palms and feet were freezing!  Medication became part and parcel of my days, but Mr. Flu has a mind of his own, especially when it comes to me. Come to think of it all my childhood illnesses too were the same.

      How can I ever forget the time (more than half a century ago) when my sisters and I contracted chicken pox! Our ayah told us that that was “Amma” way of playing with us, and while my dear sisters went with the flow of do’s and don’ts, I rebelled when told not to use a comb to my hair or fingers to scratch my ‘bubbly-body’ where it itches. And yes, you guessed right! I got the worst attack.  Neem leaves and turmeric baths were part of that terrible period. And ah, what a relief to know that a chicken pox visit is but once in a lifetime! 

      Fast forward to my Flu blues – fever made its appearance more often than was welcome, severely constricted throat that made swallowing even spittle difficult, and all sense of smell, taste and hearing too were on the warpath! With my life in a turmoil – I discovered something strange, soothing – my brain was working overtime signaling me to vent my frustration at having to put up with this uninvited guest, Mr.Flu, by writing about him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he may be playing havoc with my other organs,  but I was in control of my mind, writing vigorously, full of fervor, annihilating the last vestiges of the flu. This, my dear readers, is my flu story. If it sounds like I just “flew over the cuckoo’s nest, then so be it. But the fact is – you just read my story. Gotcha, didn’t I!