21 April 2007

remedy to the flu-blues

it fell on a monday nite. sam was already sick on the sunday of his profession. the bug probably got into me by then. monday nite was mild and warm. perfect for a swim. uni pool brewing at 27 degrees and i dipped into it. 30 laps. dried-clean and emerged out, against the evening. just berms, singlet and a thin pullover. cycled home for tofu and salmon.



nothing but arrrcheewww the morning after. nosey-waterfalls, giddy spells and the alien sense of heaviness, body speaking the language of sickness right to the marrows of bones. i switched to self-imposed quarantine. tried to hitch for one lesson but the autumn wind sent more arrrcheewwws bellowing from one despondent nose. even my bicycle shook from the unsteady gait brought forth from that legendary arrrcheewww. the body and its tenor of resistance. i too must obey.

to see a doctor here would be crazy. unnecessary referrals and always, the long queues. i have a stockpile of medicines with me. decolgen, clarinase, night and day. once, twice double-shots and plenty of forced rest. i only wrote 3 paras or 2 for that gross piece of essay i'm working on. still, they were good paragraphs. the mind has a way of distilling its best thoughts even though the rest of the body moves into shut-down mode. something has to get moving- tapping other sources of energy to keep the Self breathing.

i cooked the healthiest meal as yet. thanks to the internet's 'how to counter the flu with natural food' websites. i made the best of what i had in the kitchen. like a scene of yoda from tatootine. soon had my brown-rice porridge with dollops of coriander, mint, ginger, sweet potatoes, tumeric and almonds all in one. a side dish of salted cucumber, olive vegetables and anchovies as accompaniments. reminiscent of alexander hospital in the early 80s when i was warded for severe asthma, as a kid. a broth choked full of memories. the comfort-food which the chinese sage spoke about while prescribing traditional remedies to peasants from afar.



here i was, peasant of a different breed. locked into the tight premises of a studio-apartment. away from a tropical homeland. body learns to adapt, to the cold draught that makes people sick. ying-yang body topsy-turvey. as i unlearn the lore of that healing memory.

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