The Time I Got Dengue

2017 was one heck of a roller coaster. Preparing for Boards, coping with studies, and most memorably, contracting Dengue.

2017 saw a huge spike in the number of Dengue cases in my region. At first, I didn't think much about it and brushed the outbreak as something that was oversensationalized by the media and neighbourhood aunties. However, reality hit when my friends at school began falling ill and were admitted to the hospital. 

Naturally, everyone was worried for our loved ones and for ourselves. As a preventive measure, my school called up the Municipal Corporation and force-fed all the students this potent concoction of traditional Indian herbs called Nilavembu Kashayam. I was absent on that particular day and could not let the herbal formulation tantalize my taste buds with its unique flavour. Some of my friends were obedient, choosing to drink the Kashayam up. Others chose to pour it into the sink as they were well aware of the Kashayam's all-out assault on one's gustatory receptors. One of our teachers did not take one but two cups to be on the safe side. She encouraged everyone to do the same. Ironically, she got Dengue soon after.

Despite my absence in school that day, I was not spared. My mother found out and so I was forced to relish the taste of Kashayam every single day. She made sure I put on mosquito repellant and encouraged me to not go out of the house [not like I needed that encouragement]. I thought I was in the clear. 

Firstly, let me state that my immune system was [and still is] wack. Considering how often I'm down with some sickness, I was shocked that I hadn't fallen ill. The pesky mosquitoes didn't bother me as much as they used to as well. So I thought that there was no reason to worry. I thought....

2017 was a hectic year thanks to exams. I didn't do well in my tests and Quarterlies. I took things way too lightly because all my teachers and seniors the year prior had told me that Boards weren't anything to stress about. Though I was struggling, I was determined to improve and move on from my subpar performance. Moreover, the teachers were quite disappointed with my not-so-good performance and were expecting a change for the better. [Don't forget that this numbskull is human too. I ain't perfect.]

It was a day before the Half-Yearly exams. English Grammar was the opening act of this highly unanticipated show. Usually, Grammar is one of the subjects people don't break their heads over because there isn't much material to study. I didn't wanna take the risk. I practised bucket-loads of exercises and read numerous sample essays and letters. I wanted to redeem myself BADLY. I even asked my friend to send last year's papers 'cause I didn't wanna take any chances. That day, before I went to bed, I felt feverish. I told my mother about this. She gave me some medicine and then a lengthy and probably illogical lecture about why I fell ill....like any typical Indian mom. 

It was exam day. I was completely out of my element. I wrote whatever I could and even plagiarized someone's essay I had found online. Once the exam ended, I reached home as fast as I could 'cause my body was overheating. I felt drained out. I lost my appetite and only wanted to be with my soulmate, my bed. 

Despite being very sick, I chose to write two or three more exams 'cause ACadEmICs arE evERyTHING!!!! 

My parents were naturally worried. I needed a blood test to confirm our fears, and so I went to a testing centre. Before I continue, I wanna let ya'll know that I have vasovagal episodes under certain circumstances. For example, the other day, I broke a glass tumbler while washing it and cut my finger as a result. Despite the cut not being serious, I was bleeding quite a bit, which was enough to make me extremely dizzy and almost faint. Open wounds don't bother me. Cuts and gashes don't too, provided if they are not made on my body. However, if I bleed through a cut, from my nose, or have my blood drawn, I get beyond giddy due to a drop in my BP. So, you can only imagine how the blood test went. The doctor was collecting not one, not two, but five to six vials of blood. Instead of turning my head away and not witnessing the horror, I made the wise decision of intently observing the whole process. 

One vial done. One more vial done. Another vial to go. It never ended. The doctor then asked me if it pained. Of course it did. I told him, thinking he would slow down. Spoiler: He didn't. We got the test results a few days later, and surprise, surprise, I had tested positive.

I was fortunate to have found that I had Dengue quite early on. I was to be treated at home. I was prescribed some medicine, was asked to drink electrolytes, take some rest, and, worst of all, refrain from eating spicy or oily food. Oh boy, did that take a toll on me. I love my spice. I really do. I even ate raw chilli powder the other day to satisfy my buds. 

Ironically, the only food I wanted to eat was spicy food. Nothing else. Since I couldn't, I spent all my time watching food vloggers. [Thank you Miss Mina <3]. For the first few days, the only thing I ate was a single banana. [I guess this probably explains why this one friend thinks I walk like a banana??]. 

I was very dramatic and emotional during this period too. I was one step away from being cast in one of those soap operas but didn't do so 'cause I didn't wanna outshine my co-stars. A charitable king I am. This emotional instability was apparent even before I was diagnosed. I remember emulating one of those unnecessarily dramatic "staring through the window because of a breakup" movie scenes. The only difference was that I was sitting by a window in, not my home but the school bus and tearing up over SNSD's performance of ITNW at Tokyo Dome and not because my lover had forsaken me. 

What's worse was that I had to get my blood tested every two days. Luckily, I was able to become better at holding myself together. Water was a foreign concept to me. I lived on Sprite and Mountain Dew. Papaya leaf juice was made to forcefully enter my body thanks to my mom. I won't expand on this as it was truly a traumatic experience I'll never forget.

Speaking of papayas, this reminds me of a tale my mom once told me. When she was a young girl, her father had bought a papaya plant. The plant grew well, but it never bore any papayas. Later, they found out that the plant was a boy [yes, it's possible], and they were disappointed. A foreign concept to superstitious village peeps who think that newborn girls are bad luck. 

Papayas are cute. The same can't be said about their leaves.

Anyway, the treatment and recovery went quite well. I was lowkey glad I missed the remaining exams. I went back to school, put on weight, and people were happy to see me again, I hope.