an inconvenient truth

The heavenly promo of a telecomm company practically functioned as the lifeblood of a republic where the rate of hitting the keypad is faster than the rate of metabolism. It has been a six-day plague for individuals of my extreme opposite. I have not really fostered a perpetual connection with my mobile phone.

While hundreds of folks carry the termination of unlimited text messaging as a national jeopardy perilous than global warming, the skin lying over my scapula felt from itchy to flaming scratchy. I grabbed my phone and took a snap of what my undulating eyes cannot catch a glimpse of. Is this a zit? The screen displayed a picture of an inflamed blemish skin. My nose is bursting with blackheads and my face gets extra glistening oily sometimes but I hardly ever obtain zits. I feel qualms for my unblemished back, well, which is now spoiled thanks to an inconsiderate zit. . .it couldn’t be more than a zit!

The tagteam of a scorching headache and an involuntary lethargy constrained me to bed. I guess this collaboration commissioned my alarm clock as an accomplice. And they were hell good. It was now impossible for me to complete the Misa de Gallo. I heard no alarm and when I came to my senses, I guess the fifth of nine Eucharistic celebrations is now on the second liturgy. However, a wish assured to come into being by fulfilling the nine holy chilly mornings (or nights) was certainly not my motivation in attending the Simbang Gabi. I could still attend the remaining four masses, I said to myself.

Five days before Christmas, I had to leave my hackneyed habitat to meet my classmates and make a colossus-worth project in Electronics. I was feeling very ill but I have to make up to them and well, do my part in the project. My head was dead throbbing as if a lightning scar is engraved in my forehead and You-Know-Who might just have resurrected, or well, there was still an eighth Horcrux. I compelled myself to take a bath and prepare myself. As I was bathing, my attention on the burning sensation in my head detoured to a swollen spot in my left arm…and then there were spots. I found another two in my abdomen. I can tell they were blisters— swollen, painful, fluid serum. But I won’t tell myself. I don’t want to get bothered but actually, panic levels were starting to rise as I was feeling equally scratchy and lumpy in my scalp and in my forehead.

The project-making kuno was a day filled with hilarious tête-à-tête and sidesplitting laughter. This group did not fail that day to radiate good hearty laughs which made me survive my uneasy state. Lest I guess, I will perish owing to the throbbing phenomenon in my head and the heavy discomfort of itch. It was almost eight in the evening when I got home. The nasty truth confronted me as my eyes feasted on my miserable back and abdomen. I’ve got chicken pox.