I wake up in a cold sweat, the ceiling fan and the bed spinning in opposite directions. I look at my watch – it is two in the morning. I drift back off to sleep.
I wake up shivering, to my phone ringing. It is the Kili head office asking me if I feel better from yesterday. I tell them to cancel todays plans. I fall asleep again.
I wake up boiling, It is eleven in the morning. I press the “call for service” button by my door to “call for help.” The amma of the house comes in to my room, takes my temperature, throws some paracetamol into my mouth and calls the local clinic’s doctor, Dr Siva, who promises to come on his lunch break. I doze off to sleep to the cricket.
I wake up, and it is almost two in the afternoon. Somehow, the TV changed from cricket to a home shopping network thing all in Tamil. The doctor and amma are already in my room. They must think I am crazy, watching home-shopping. The doctor takes my temperature (with an old-school mercury thermometer) which he thankfully asks me to put under my arm. He takes my pressure and listens to my breathing. He tells me he will be back.
I, surprisingly, stay awake, and I take this opportunity to catch up on missed blog writing. The doctor knocks on my door a few hours later with a bag full of pills. I need to take 7 pills three times a day (2 pinkies, 2 capsules, 2 round thingies and a bigger round thingy) which will apparently make me better. I chug them down with water, eat a piece of bread and go to sleep.