The Dengue Diaries

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September 5, 2013 – Thursday

08:02 A.M.

My body temperature has been stuck to 38°c. But I still need to help Z with her project so what the hell?

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September 6, 2013 – Friday

10:52 A.M.

This fever is killing me. When I close my eyes, I see different colors and some of my childhood fever dreams are flashing. I have taken different brands of Paracetamol but nothing seems to work for me. So maybe, just maybe, I should seek professional help.

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September 7, 2013 – Saturday

3: 19 A.M.

Just arrived home. C and Z took me to UDMC because my chills don’t feel right anymore.

The one who attended me in the emergency ward just gave me Paracetamol and that’s it. I also underwent a blood test and the result showed that my “platelet count” is low. We asked them to admit me in because I might have the dreaded Dengue virus, but they said I should just rest at home. Wow.

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September 8, 2013 – Sunday

8:14 A.M.

Last night, I was confined here at St. Luke’s Medical Center – Quezon City and officially, for the record, I have Dengue fever.

I can still gag that I am not gonna die soon but the decreasing number of my blood platelets is positively not joking. I still do not have any idea where I got bitten by a mosquito but it doesn’t matter now. All I want is to recover fast and live normally again.

P.S. We rushed to the UST Hospital first but nobody seemed to be interested in my condition. Wow.

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1:50 P.M.

This private room is amply large. It is way bigger than a premium flop of a chic motel. I have a cable television, a refrigerator, and a consistent WiFi connection. Frankly, it’s comfortable here. But hospitals are not really my kind of place so I’d rather be in a premium flop of a chic motel.

Hold on, a doctor will orient me.

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2:40 P.M.

Dengue virus has four strains. When you acquired one, you will be immune after surviving it. BUT that doesn’t make you impervious with the other three.

Findings say that this is my second Dengue fever. Maybe my body was healthy enough when I first had it that I didn’t even notice the symptoms. However, the doctor said that the sophomore acquisition is more fatal.

A blood sample should be taken from me every five hours so they can monitor my dropping platelet count.

Since this unpleasant case makes every count of blood valuable, I MUST not bleed in any plausible means. Meaning: I must not squeeze a zit; I must not pick my nose; I must not scratch my balls; I must not brush my teeth; and I must not gamble into any bustle that might open even a small motherfuckin’ lesion. I also must not eat any dark-colored food that can be mistaken as blood when it turned into shit.

What a mediocre situation I am into right now. So this I swear:

When I step out of this building, I will eat a quadruple-patty burger in Burger King.

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September 9, 2013 – Monday

9:00 A.M.

This is supposed to be my first day in my new job as a blah blah programmer something. Dammit. C already called the office to notify them about my pathetic condition. It’s really stupid because I may have an IV drip pinned in my vein and I may be lying literally on a bed, BUT I am, beyond doubt, not bed-ridden. I can actually walk; I can, in fact, go to the toilet while carrying the bag of dextrose tethered and injected in my opisthenar; I can still, obviously, type in an Android slate or a computer; and I can still do other shit without a hint of pain.

Boyetus@St.Lukes.Dengue.2013

This sucks and it sucks more because all that I MUST do the whole day is lie on bed, eat, rest, watch television, browse the Internet, and WAIT. Wait for myself to GET BETTER.

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1:05 P.M.

I just had lunch. My mother brought me a generous serving of egg omelet (with ground pork and potatoes) which is actually delish. However, I noticed that I’m having a hard time eating. I know I want to eat and I MUST eat (and drink water always) but two spoonfuls of anything appear to quickly make my paunch bloated. A quarter glass of water seems to petrify my tummy and it feels like exploding.

Is it because of the rapid flow of D-glucose? I’ll ask Ivy, my pretty nurse.

I’m starting to get rashes by the way.

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7:25 P.M.

An hour ago, my blood platelet count was down to 7. The record here in St. Luke’s was 5 and I really had no plans of beating that so I underwent blood transfusion. Seven bags of almost golden-yellow liquid were injected to me. Nurses said that those were “platelets”.

The color of the fluid makes me wanna quaff a bottle of beer.

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September 10, 2013 – Tuesday

3:06 A.M.

Platelet count: 7. No change. The same. Status quo.

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12:07 P.M.

I actually have planned for this day.

I will surprise my wife with my… well… “presence” in the car park after her shift and we will go somewhere to eat something savory, then go home, and have a good sex.

I guess some plans are not meant to happen.

C still undressed me by the way… when I decided to take a bath and finally wear the hospital gown. I felt fresh. My mother and mother-in-law also brought some “real” grubs that are affable for my taste buds. No offense but I really don’t enjoy chomping on hospital rations.

Platelet count: 9. Improving, eh?

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8:00 P.M.

Ivy, my beautiful nurse has just reduced the speed of my IV drip this afternoon. My tetchy tummy finally got relieved. I was so happy I could kiss her.

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11:19 P.M.

Platelet count update: from 9 to18. Let’s do this!

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September 11, 2013 – Wednesday

2:20 A.M.

My platelet count has dropped to 16. Seriously?

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9:15 A.M.

Dear Diary,

Good morning.

My blood platelet count is indeed improving. I can already taste a four beef-patty burger cavorting on the strongest muscle of my body. I’m so happy I can kiss my nurse again.

Love, Boyetus

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2:30 P.M.

I forgot to write here that I transferred to a smaller private room last night after Bandila. My running hospital bill is a whopping eighty-thousand pesos and we might not have the wherewithal to disburse it if it reaches a hundred. On the other side of the coin, my whiter-version-Long-Mejia-look-a-like-Chinese doctor has already told me that I can go home tomorrow.

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September 12, 2013 – Thursday

6:01 P.M.

It was quite a week. I survived one of the dangerous diseases that has killed a lot of people in the world. I am still thankful that I was the one who got it and not my loved ones, especially my daughter.

I am thanking everyone who sent me kind and funny messages that I received through SMS and Facebook. Thank you for those who offered help that we deeply appreciated but respectfully refused.

I may not believe in it, but thank you for those who prayed for my upturn.

Thank you for those who visited and brought food.

To C and Z. To my loving family and beautiful friends. To all the doctors and hardworking hot nurses (I wish I could put all your names in the feedback sheet). To everyone… you know who you are. I love you all.

Karu-san is here by the way. He arrived a while ago while a nurse was removing the drip’s needle from my nerve. He witnessed a lot of blood that gushed out from my vein to the floor. So metal, eh?

I already took a bath and changed to regular outfit. C is settling the bill on the ground floor and all our bags are almost already packed. We will be leaving this place any moment now.

So much for blood samples and needles.

So much for mouthwashes and medicines.

So much for the irregular sleeps and waking up in the wrong hours.

So much for the nonsense jabbers and flirting with the nurses (kidding!).

So much for all this bullshit.

I’ll be back in the real world soon.

There’s a baby grand in the lobby. I want to play a little and C is already here with the discharge papers. All clear.

I’m free.

Come on wifey and Karu-san, it’s time for Burger King.

HIT ME

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