My Chinese New Year

There is nothing sweeter, and funnier, than receiving a personalised gift with your name spelt wrong. I got a calendar in the mail from the guys I sing at weddings for. It arrived in time for Chinese New Year. Every month featured an inspiring quote (probably; I haven't read each one) and a fancy picture with my supposed name. That's on every page. It's all still very sweet and appreciated. But funny. :-)

I just had an interesting experience. I had a little blood on Friday (now it could've been Thursday), and then an ache on Saturday night (I remember it was after filming that scene I was so stressed out about) and then I felt a little feverish and weak on Sunday (I was at the barbeque, after the reunion dinner). Then finally on Monday, I awoke to a high fever and I would shiver, my teeth would chatter and cold air or water would sting my skin. More like pelt it. Or even prick it, like a thousand needles boring their way in, moving up and down at different paces and frequencies.

Naturally, being the passive optimistic I am, I decided to just bear with it as long as I could until I had to go out for visiting, which was when I took a painkiller to alleviate the fever and the ache in my left. I had no appetite but shoved a few pear slices down my unwelcoming throat. My stomach was friendlier to them though I couldn't really see that far down. While watching Catch Me If You Can on TV, I started to break out into uncontrollable perspiration. Damn it. Yuck. Eeeyew. What's wrong with me?

I walked out in the sun and felt fine and the train was cool. When I arrived at my host's beautiful newly renovated home, I was nicely balanced and not feeling ill at all. That night when I was home, my fever began again and I started to shiver. Wrapped up in my newest prettiest top that showed off my shoulders, and a full khaki jacket, I descended to ask for paracetamol through chattering teeth. I drank so much that night. I estimated it to be more than my entire life (which isn't much if you know me at all). I kept waking to unload and refilled each time. I was constantly thirsty and my mouth was perpetually dry and pasty.

I cannot remember a thing about Tuesday. Except that I had the same shivers.

Wednesday saw me calling my mom and asking her about doctors my dad knew. I didn't trust any other doctors after having seen a random one for a bad knee. I had meds at home and simply asked for a letter so I can get my own X-ray. He promptly instructed me to take a bunch of pills, saying an X-ray was unnecessary, and to come back if my knee gave way. How? Hop?

She rang me back soon after with panic in her voice, "A model died recently from a urine infection that went into her bloodstream and killed her."

"Oh dear. Is it that serious?"

"Yes, they cut off her hands and legs and she still died. Cannot play. Cannot wait. Since Friday already. That's too long. You could die!"

So I started to worry and jumped into a cab. Racing home, I didn't speak to the taxi driver, which is unusual for me. Instead I felt like I saw the sunlight for the first time. The trees never looked more light, breezy, friendly, beautiful. We passed a church. I felt a tear. I didn't know why exactly. But I guess I was not ready to die. I was never afraid to die. But it was a little too sudden and I was, am, not prepared. Which is now funny, and extremely unfair, to think. Whoever would be?

I'll continue this another day.