Friday night, I went to the old house after work to lay down vinyl planks.  Rather, I went to knock out the sides where there were nails protruding out of wood strips used to keep the carpet in place, before I could lay down vinyl planks.  There was an area where for a period of time, waters from the clogged laundry pipe would go up the sink, over the counter, and onto the carpet.  The wood stripes had turned black, presumable from mold.  Next to that area, there was the remnants of spilled chlorine or who knows what white powdery chemical.  Then, at the opposite end, there was a whole lot of dust.  This all is important, because...

Saturday morning, I woke up and didn't felt so well.  Nothing a bit more sleep couldn't fix, I thought.  So I slept some more.  I woke up; same feeling.  It was noon.  My dad had gone out and bought one of those seats people use to sunbathe in while reading books.  I sat out in the sun for half an hour during the afternoon, because honestly, by then I was feeling pretty miserable, and was trying my options to see what would make the pain go away.  For that half an hour, things felt pretty awesome.  It was probably 80 degrees outside.  My mom had brought out some lemonade.  So I just relaxed.

Then, I went inside and ate my lunch.  Then I went back to bed.  By now, things were getting serious.  I was alternating between periods when I would be freezing cold and periods when I would be burning (but not sweating, strangely).  My mom finally brought a thermometer, and found out that I had a fever of 103 degrees, which is pretty high, and would explain the headache and general discomfort I was feeling.  I decided to sleep some more, because real men sleep it off.

That night, it hailed.  I just lied there, listening to the hail hitting the window, wondering how large the hail was and whether they would cause any damage to the car.  My mom put me on Tylenol, which I acquiesced to, because by now, it was clear things weren't getting better.  

In fact, things were getting worse the next two days, which felt sort of like a blur.  I couldn't sleep as much as I wanted because of my headache.  My fever wasn't dropping.  I started putting ice on my head to force it down, which would take away the headache enough for me to be able to sleep.  I was hungry but didn't feel like eating anything.  I guess I felt like I wanted to eat something, but whatever I thought about eating wasn't appealing.  I finally settled on instant noodles, which I always am in the mood for.  Much to my surprise, once I tasted the noodles, it tasted like someone left the flavor packet out, which I'm sure I put in.  I even double-checked.  I never knew that being sick did that to you.  I remembered hearing someone saying to never eat your favorite food when you're sick, because you'll never want to eat it again.  Fortunately, I still want to eat instant noodles, even after finishing the whole bowl.  

By Monday night, it was bad. My fever still wasn't dropping.  My dad came with a bottle of Propolis extract, which is the stuff that bees eat when they feel like they're getting sick.  That tasted disgusting.  I started trying many desperate things, like drinking Coke in an attempt to pee the fever out.  I started trying to breathe deeply to clear my lungs of any potential fungal spores.  I even vomited out what I recognized as the dumplings I ate two days ago.  Strangely enough, it was as if my stomach refused to touch them, because they still smelled like dumplings too, as opposed to what food typically smell like after they've started digesting.

Anyways, after all that was over, armed with two cups of water, a can of Coke, and a bag of ice at my bedside, I had nothing left to do but to sleep.

I woke up the next morning, surprised in no small measure by the fact that I had slept the whole night without any disturbance.  More joyful, though, was the fact that the fever had apparently left.  A check with the thermometer confirmed it, and I was quite happy.  I then spent the rest of the day doing things normal people who aren't sick would do until now, when I decided that I should write something to keep this memory.

The lesson I've learned in the end was that I am no real man.  A few degrees in temperature in my head out of the norm easily brought me to my knees.  I feel like a weakling.  No.  I am a weakling.