A Journey to Hell!

I woke up with a slight headache. Not the hammering kinds. Slight!

 

I quickly get into my routine of washing and dressing and rushing to work. Gulp down a large mug of hot, sweetened coffee hoping the slight discomfort will be taken care off. I head towards my cubicle feeling slightly sluggish. The screen's glare feels slightly harsher and the pain from my forehead slowly spreads around my temple, following the route further back to the small of my brain.

 

Acidity has caught up due to late nights and street food. I have some carb rich breakfast to soothe the raging acid, now travelling with alarming velocity around my brain and eyes. Chased down with a tall glass of cold milk. I settle down to finish some work, and in the flurry of activity and a newly advanced deadline, forget about the ache. Work is sometimes the sweet escape you long for! 

 

As I trudge down for lunch, I am aware of the ache in my eardrums. Piercing, as if I have been surprised into a sudden flight take-off. I rub my ears with vigour to find sticky, wet liquid oozing. Scrupulous about cleanliness I not only wash my hands with soap, but also use some sanitiser just before picking up my order. As if my discomfort was not enough to pull me down, the food had a slightly bitter tang. It smelled fine, looked fresh, but an ingredient was amiss.  

 

As I settle for a meeting with the director, I excuse myself for a minute. The AC has been set at an uncomfortably low temperature, and I bring in my jacket. Hot tea is served which soothes my aching sinuses and throbbing ears. Now I am hot, my ears are warming, and I can feel them turn red. Fidgeting while grim faces discuss budget slashes and increased targets does not bode well. Stuffy people in their stuffy suits and with their stuffy faces!

 

Uncomfortable enough to want to leave for the day, my legs feel weird when I fold an unfold them. As if I have been running for hours. My health has gone for a toss in the crazy work routine, but maybe I should think of evening strolls atleast. As the day wears on my body is on its own trip. Refusing movement, sometimes hot and sometimes cold, ache in the muscle, souring of the throat and a woofer like movement in my head.

 

Now I am a little worried. One thing at a time is routine. Two or three in combination, not too rare. But all of this with increasing drowsiness equals to a bad sign. I am contemplating taking off, but there are a few things that need to be closed. My unique position in the organisation and the valuable experience of over a year now cannot be replaced by anyone else. I slog along, taking longer than usual, close all my assignments. Its almost dinner time. A quick bite before the hour long train ride home.

 

The thought of food and the grease nauseates me, so I make do with some orange juice, which instantly irritates my throat and nose and head. I throw the juice, order some warm milk in a takeaway container. As I sip the milk through commute I find it difficult to swallow and breathe at the same time. I am gasping if I try to drink too much at a time.

 

I reach home scared, and give a call to our family doctor to rush over. I am sick! The gentle, old soul walks in ten minutes later to find me sprawled on the sofa sniffling, eyes watering and unable to move. One look into my reddened eyes and swollen nose

 

"You may, my dear, pop a pill, and try remedies worthy of my bill.

Take it from a man this old, nothing can save you from the vengeance of a common cold"

 

P.S. Hell must be like the common cold. There is no cure, we all must do our time!