No one ever has fun getting sick. It’s a small period of vulnerability
that leaves us feeling physically at our worst and looking for any form of
relief or comfort to feel better. It’s easy to forget just how comfortable some
chicken soup or some nice warm tea can make us feel when they are not longer available.
My first experience getting sick in Korea came quickly and
out of the blue. I had been pushing my body to the limit since settling down in
Korea, not wanting to waste a single moment during the weekend and staying out
to the crack of dawn to see everything that there was to see. It was really no
surprise that my body would eventually concede defeat and yield to the advances
of sickness.
I awoke one morning feeling a little stuffier than normal,
my throat dry and my eyes itchy. I shrugged it off to allergies and decided
that drinking some water and staying away from pollen would be the cure for my
most recent woes. As the day progressed and the symptoms begin to worsen, I
noticed that what I had was more than allergies. Soon I was having difficulty
breathing, my nose was completely blocked and my throat felt like I had just
swallowed the contents of an ash tray.
Luckily, that day was a day that was devoted to all-day
version of study hall, due to the approaching deadline of exams the following
weeks. I was fortunate enough to be allowed to go to the drug store and
purchase some temporary medicine. Unfortunately, the drug store was more than
15 minutes away from my school, and without a means of transportation and a
lack of taxies coming my way, walking was the only option.
The hot sun beat down on me as I made my way to the store. I
was used to feeling sick in the winter, battling a runny nose and a sore throat
with the freezing cold as a companion. It seemed odd that weather that I
normally associated with warmth, health and vitality was making me feel worse
as I slowly made my way to the store. Everything seems to take longer, seem
farther when feeling sick. My watch told me that I had only taken 14 minutes to
reach the store. My body told me that I had been walking for days.
When I entered the shop, I handed the pharmacist a piece of
paper with a translated request for over the counter medicine. With my little
knowledge of Korean and my quickly disappearing voice, trying to speak would
only bring about more complications and take more time, something that I did
not want to deal with. Being sick means being angry, it means being impatient.
Being sick means wanting everything right now and needing relief because your
body demands it and as far as you’re concerned, the world needs to stop because
you’re sick damnit.
However, the world does not stop, no one cares and you are
left to fend for yourself. This was never more apparent than feeling like death
and not being able to translate or articulate your symptoms to a doctor. If I
was going to become any better, or at the very least not feel like a lifeless, diseased
lump of flesh I was going to have to take things in my own hands.
I accepted the medicine and started the long journey back to
my school. Once I made it back it was now noticeable that I was very sick and
before I would even say anything, my vice principal kindly sent me home to
recover, a very kind gesture and one that I have come to appreciate in a world
where kind gestures can be scarce.
I once again made another trek back towards my home, my pace
greatly slowed and my breathing labored. I remember telling myself that I was
getting closer. I told myself that my apartment was only a few more steps and
promised myself my comfortable mattress and soft pillow as a reward for making
the journey back.
I made it back to my apartment and immediately collapsed on
my bed. Exhaustion quickly won as I feel asleep for several hours before waking
again. I sat up on my mattress, still feeling horrible and covered in a cold
sweat.
There was no mother to care for me, no roommate to run to
the store and bring you back some soup. There was only myself, my sickness and the
quiet empty apartment.
In a country thousands of miles from home, I was on my own.
The job, the food, the living situation never made me realize how much I needed
to rely on myself and the responsibility of maintain your health, or rather how
important your health was especially with a job responsibility. I would
regularly blow off classes to stay home sick, but I could no longer do that. Getting
sick was my responsibility in my body and even if it wasn’t my fault, it was my
burden to deal with, no one else’s.
It seems that at moments of venerability we quickly realize
the extent of our situations and how we will solve them. Its these moments
where we grow the most and our true characters emerge.
note: After nearly a week of dealing with illness, I am now feeling much better. Still not completely well, but significantly better everyday.
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