I’m feeling better. No more fever in the evenings. I greatly thankful for that. I believe all the spots have surfaced. Polka dots. I don’t know if the scars will disappear. I’m just grateful that the fever is gone.
Movies and sketches still. The things that keep me sane.
Strange things happen when one’s sick. I found it amusing that I viewed eating as a chore. I know I’m really sick if I don’t feel like eating. There’s really something wrong with me if I’ve lost my appetite. At this point, all I’m interested in is water – cold water.
I got a mandatory two-week solitary confinement slash “rest” in its truest sense. There goes my vacation. I did nothing work related the whole time I was sick. I could not. The brain wasn’t processing. I just need these two weeks to pass.
I’m left with a lot of time. Watched all the movies and TV series that I can, did some catching up with the books I never got to finish, and experienced staring at the ceiling or studying the light playing across the curtains in the evening – just for the heck of it.
It was torture.