I have been under the weather lately. I battled flu last week and it’s cough that I am dealing with presently–and it’s not giving up without a fight. Being sick is bad alright but when it coincides with your much-awaited vacation, it’s poised to be a downright bummer. None of the medicines I tried is helping me much: I was awake from 1:00 to 4:00 am last night because of vigorous coughing. I was practically downstairs the whole time as my respiratory tract and bladder are in overdrive. I saw no signs of it slowing down but I thought I’d already given it enough attention. I had to end my gimik by the sink and called it a night. How I was able to slip into the subconscious was like a miraculous gift as the last thing I knew was that I was begging Divine Intervention to give me respite from it all.
Upon waking up, though, I greeted the day with, well, another round of coughing. It came right before I was even able to say to say thanks for the three hours of sleep. It was then that a realization dawned on me… This can’t go on. I may not have been able to plan how I’ll spend the whole week’s worth of vacation in my bag but I do not intend to spend it just reading books at home. It sure is a worthwhile activity but I also want to write some, go some place, jog in the morning rain, and deal with parish work that desperately needs attention. To rest and stay at home for the whole week is an arguable option but i’d like to count it out.
I can’t remember exactly who said it but back in college I came across a quote from an ancient person (one of them Plato, Aristotle, Hippocrates, Confucius) which says that by age 30 you should already know how to cure yourself. It’s a tall order but it stuck with me up to this day and I am quite sure that there’s wisdom in it. Maybe it was responsibility toward your own well being that he is driving at. Or maybe it’s also about getting in touch with your own body physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
The last time I contracted cough (acute bronchitis according to WebMD) was last summer, around the week before my Samar vacation. Drinking my own bitter concoction of oregano juice did it for me then. It has always worked for me. It was something I learned from my mother as a kid. It’s a trick I tend to share with friends but the last thing I resort to when the dreadful cough gets to me. I guess it’s the bitter taste or the lengths I have to go to just to get some leaves to pound that turns me off. The lure of western medicine is much more appealing as some cough syrup, tablet, and capsule are always available in the Mercury Drug Store a few steps from our place. But then again…
As I was stepping out of the house earlier this afternoon, I realized and told mama that this is the first time I am leaving the house in three days, a new record since the chicken pox episode of 2008. I am headed to the mall to do a two-hour walk (the most I could do in my condition as substitute for running), pick up some Pei Pa Kua, which Leslie introduced to me, to soothe my throat (the package says it’s for “horseness” or loss of voice among other things), then i’ll do my regular coffee and blog time. And then, after I am done, I’ll swing by the Quiapo area to look for juicy oregano leaves and do the ritual when I get home.
I hereby resolve to cure my self and cut the drama.