Can anyone remember the last time they were sick? I mean truly sick. Not a bit of a cold or an alcohol-induced projectile vomit session that's cured with a take away and a bottle of Lucozade. A genuine stomach bug. The kind your mum used to call a 'virus' to sound polite to the school receptionist as she informed them that you would be off that day. The kind that rendered you weak and useless for an entire 24 hours, pitiful and shivering wrapped in a blanket of pity.
Well before this week, I struggled to recall the last time I was truly sick. As an adult, I had started to wonder if the myth of The Bug was just a childhood thing our immune systems had finally grown out of. Sure, there was food poison and the flu, but random bouts of sickness eluded me. Until now. I have to say I've never had such an appreciation for food. Even days after the initial sickness, you crave your usual meals but your stomach is just too sensitive to allow them back into your system just yet and lets out an unforgiving rumble at the thought of a pizza slice. Instead, I've resorted to plain old foods. Dry toast, for example, is always an old favourite. Is your mum even your mum if she doesn't offer you dry toast when you're sick? A good brew is out of the question. Milk is a questionable produce. Anything cheesy, spicy or covered in sauce is scraped in fear of a reboot of The Bug. On the plus side, perhaps this little episode is exactly what my body needs to kick start that diet I've been meaning to do since 2002. Silver linings.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Archives
December 2022
Categories
All
Author
Part-time student/bar-associate |