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I Didnt Think Flu Would Ever Put Me Down
(Anete Kyamugisha)

Publicidade
I thought that people who missed work because of the flu were lazy or simply wanted an off, but that was before I got my share of that deadly virus. That day, I started feeling weak towards lunchtime and attributed everything to the long journey that I had made the previous day.
After my evening exercises, my throat, ears and nose started itching. By bedtime I was feeling pain in the joints. I took a pair of paracetamol tablets before retiring to bed. Just after midnight, I felt as if my arms and the legs were getting off the rest of the body. One side of my head was very painful, my chest was aching and my breath was coming in short pants.
This is pneumonia, I thought to myself.
I tried to lift my head but it was too heavy and my legs defied my orders to move. The only option was to press the alarm switch near my bed. The sounds from different alarm bells in the neighbourhood filled the air. My intention was to wake up Liz and Dorothy, so they could come to my rescue. After all, nobody would discover who had switched the alarm on.
I cannot stand up," I said with difficulty
But the door is locked," Liz and Dorothy said in unison. I voluntarily told the two the secret place, where my spare key was.
Liz stretched her hand and touched my trembling figure, seated on the bed supported by two large pillows. She looked at me concernedly and gave me a little sad smile. I had tried to call but had been reminded that I did not have sufficient credit to sustain my call. My car was in the on drip too, and even if it was not, the only person in the house who knew how to drive was the dying one.
As if that was not enough, my housemates were no less than the cowardly hyenas. They would rather drop dead than go outside and wake a neighbour. A donation in form of darkness from the ministry of darkness added salt to the wound.
"Take it easy girl, you will see your doctor first thing tomorrow morning," Liz consoled me as she placed a cold towel on my hot forehead.
I finally dosed off, and when I opened my eyes, Harriet was there to take me to my clinic, Midland in Old Kampala. The absence of the Lab technician worsened my situation and I couldn't help sending the gentleman to hell although prematurely. (Sir forgive me I was not myself)
"Joyce, I know I have malaria please tell please tell the doctor to give me medicine" I pleaded. But the good nurse looked at me and with her usual beautiful smile said, " You are not as sick as you think you are, it may be flu."
Me! Suffering from flu! She was lucky she had talked to me politely. "My hands are itching to push the needle into your flesh, " Joyce's workmate Remmy said rubbing her soft hands against each other. She too wears a smile that makes guys bump into obstacles.
To my surprise, the results showed that my blood didn't contain malaria parasites.
"Doctor I think I have pneumonia," I stammered.
"You don't have a bad cough so you cannot be suffering from pneumonia," my middle aged beautiful doctor assured me, grinning, the same type of a grin that usually eases my pain. I'm sure during her youth many men swallowed flies while gaping at her. I walked out of the doctor's room shoulder-high and smiling. I even spent some minutes cracking jokes with the staff at the clinic.
I woke up in the evening feeling lighter and a strange odour in my house made me realize that my smelling sense was partly active. On opening the kitchen door, I saw a saucepan full of herbs boiling. I quickly summoned my housekeeper, Dorothy, to explain why she was wasting my charcoal.
It was Harriet who answered back, "Get to the bathroom and undress," she said seriously and like an innocent sheep ready for slaughter, I obeyed. She covered me with a blanket and placed the boiling saucepan under. I came out feeling as if a heavy load had been taken off my head. After that harrowing experience, whenever I meet anyone suffering from flu, I will empathise.



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