Food Poisoning.

My first food poisoning in over 10,000 days of existence. Fancy.

I suddenly felt feverish on the way back. The pain was so bad I had to got off the train and take a cab. I thought of withdrawing money from the ATM in the station but each time I queued I had to stagger off to one side because I was feeling faint. Then I realized that you can now pay via NETS for your cab ride, and I went straight to the cabs waiting at the nearby taxi stand.

The journey home was sheer torture. The traffic was so bad that the cab was basically crawling along. I was cold, exhausted, feverish and struggling to breathe, and every start and stop drove sharp shards of pain into my body. I cursed the bloody regime bitterly. All the increases in ERP and traffic charges and what have these done to alleviate the traffic conditions? Nothing! The stinking money-raking skunks.

I reached home after what seemed like an eternity and headed off to my bed immediately. If it was possible, I was more feverish than before. I swore the sheets I wrapped my shaking body around to keep warm were burning and in spite of the cold I felt, I did not shiver. A sense of emptiness enveloped me, enfolded me in its blackness, filled with despair and a sense of resignation I thought I would die. I could not breathe and every moment was a whacking agony.

Two hours or so later I was literally dragged out of my bed by a combination of nagging and man-handling by my folks. Upon seeing my condition they wanted me to see a doctor. I was in pain and too weak to walk and I did not want to exacerbate my my agony walking to some quack. There was a big uproar, akin to what any cat-owner will experience every time he takes his cat to the bath.

After shambling 800m, we were aghast to be turned away at the clinic. The two whores manning the clinic told us that we were 'too late' and we missed the timing. This was ridiculous because we had asked them to wait and surely, as responsible medical staff (even though they were just counter staff), they should give allowance to a stricken man who could barely walk). I got the feeling that even if I were to die right on their doorstep they would have shut the door. Some much for the Hippocratic oath. They should rename it the Hypocrite oath.

Incensed at being REFUSED MEDICAL AID, I ranted at the two harlots, telling them I would do a 'free advertisement' on the internet for their clinic. They didn't seem much impressed and maybe they would be when - and if - I got the chance to blast this out loud on some popular site.

We stopped a cab and got the driver to drive around the Jurong West area to see if there was any 24 hour clinic around. As chance would have it, there was one open. It was fortunate because I didn't want to go to the fucking hospital and wait five fucking hours sitting on a chair in A&E just to get a fucking bed.

The doctor examined me and told me I was suffering from food poisoning. I was also running a 39 degree celsius fever. He was quite articulate, unlike other doctors, he took his time with his patients, and advised me what to do. He offered me a drink filled with some salt solution and said that I should take this every half an hour and if my condition didn't improve, I should go to the hospital.

Despite my suffering I still shot the shit a bit with the good doctor. I told him about my misfortune with the clinic earlier and he was obviously torn between his affiliation with the members of his trade and common dignity. I do not blame him. Unlike his diabolical peer who could have left me dead outside his clinic, he had not been less than exemplary in treating me.

The journey back home was another ordeal. My stomach lurched with the movements of the cab I was on, and I barely made it up the stairs to my house, even with my father's assistance.

I hit the bed the first thing I got back. My mother forced five tablets and that yucky solution down my throat as I pleaded to be allowed to sink into oblivion. After my second cup of salt solution I retched a few times before I vomited out what looked like a thick clear liquid mixed with brown streaks. I was to vomit four times before my stomach decided that the stock was cleared. I was still alternately hot and cold, and I wheezed like I was gasping my last. Such agonies I have rarely experienced. I thought I would expire.

I slept until five yesterday, shifting in and out of consciousness. My mother woke me up a few times to drink that horrible mixture. My stomach heaved interminably but thankfully nothing came out.

I felt capable of doing some work so I switched on the computer. Unfortunately, I still failed to make any headway on my Finance project. I ended up talking to the Lass, which was more meaningful - not to mention more fun - than my Finance modules would ever be. Also, my friend went online and asked me to correct his English assignment. He wanted it to be perfect but I thought if I did more than what I did I might as well put my name on his paper.

This morning I was rudely roused from my sleep by the noises caused by my neighbour's renovation. Of all the days my dear neighbour had to pick today to renovate his fucking toilets. What were they installing in there anyway? Durai brand golden taps? This noise hazard was so bad that any hope of me getting any needed rest was dashed.

I decided to work on my Fixed Income Securities assignment but the noise was really unbearable. Seeing there was absolutely no way I could concentrate, I went down to the void deck to get some peace and quiet. There I spent close to two hours tackling my question. I could barely restrain myself from tearing that accused 600 page textbook apart. These Finance and Banking guys should take a course in effective writing skills. Nothing wrong with their English, but their long-winded and obfuscating style reminded me of some philosophy dissertation written by some long-dead philosopher nobody gives a damn about.

After conjuring up answers that I am not sure are correct, I returned home to type the damn thing. That should have concluded my misery, but no! While compiling the report, I was struck by just how many grammatical mistakes there were in the report. Some sentences didn't even make sense! I don't know if my project mate had copied it wholesale from the investment sites he visited, but I was pretty close to despair as I edited the worst of the balderdash. (I hope he won't feel similarly when he edits my part.)

Anyway, I got the job done and emailed them saying that if they do not respond before midnight, I will submit the damn thing. I cannot believe I actually finished this. Last year the same shit happened to me. I was doing my Project Management while having a high fever, and this time I was whacked by a bout of food poisoning. This is truly a sign of my remarkable mental strength
and superb physical recovery. Despite working under such excruciating conditions, I am still able to produce miracles. I should be applauded for my efforts.



DAMN! My stomach is hurting again! - 10.39pm

If the pain worsens, this will be my last entry. - 10.43pm.