News Flash: Hajera is sick – Part I

I have a cold. A painfully, terribly, horribly, horrendous cold. A throat infection, according to the nice doctor lady my mom dragged me to see this afternoon. And when I say drag, I mean literally, drag. She had to beg and plead and put up with my scathing remarks about why doctors are inept and ‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this’ looks. But in front of my mother, all resistance is futile. Even while I was planning my way out of this dreaded trip, that annoying goody-two-shoes voice that occupies a place in everyone’s head and is always right and tells you ‘I told you so’ every chance it gets, kept telling me I was wasting my time. Indeed, I was, for at 2:38 pm, I was promptly shoved out of the house for my 2:45 pm appointment. The doctor, unfortunately for me, but thank heavens for my mother, has her office five minutes away from my house.

So while on my way to see this lucky doctor that would get to examine me (I bet seeing me just made her day and her career worthwhile!), I pondered over what to tell her and how best to describe my symptoms. Sure, she would be able to see my beet-red nostrils and recognize instantly that I was there because of the sniffles. But this was no ordinary cold and she had to be informed of it.

For one thing, there was no runny nose. A cold without a runny nose?! Is that even possible, you ask? Well indeed, it is. I’m going to have to get a little graphic here so for the queasy ones in the audience, don’t say you weren’t warned. Imagine yourself as one of the millions of mucous particles that are currently partying it up in my clogged nostrils. You’re running wild and free one moment, and the next, when you least expect it, an alarm goes off and a loud, booming voice, yells out of the PA system (exact location of this PA system has been undecided as of yet): “Attention all mucous particles. Attention all mucous particles. Please report to the mucous headquarters immediately. I repeat, please report to the mucous headquarters immediately.”

No sooner has the alarm gone off that you and all your mucous friends stampede straight towards my head. There’s a curious buzz in the air as everyone wonders the reason for this unusual disturbance. You hear theories flying left, right and centre, but your guess is as good as the tackily dressed mucous person on your right. Meanwhile, the sudden sounding of the alarm and subsequent rush of all you mucous particles to my head gives me a headache. Its a sharp, throbbing headache that makes me dazed and unstable, causing people to enquire if I am feeling alright. I sweetly lie and continue on my way.

Back inside, you’re still wondering what all the fuss is about. The other mucous particles are restless and demand to know why their routine has been disrupted. The bigger and heavier mucous particles are blocking your view and you jump up from your spot numerous times to see whats going on up ahead. There are only mucous heads to be seen for miles and miles ahead (Remember, you’re a mucous particle so a centimeter is like a mile to you). A few seconds later, a silenced hush descends over the assembled mucous community as the mucous leader stands up to speak…

to be continued.