I just couldn’t make sense of anything. I had two projects to deliver, a house that needed cleaning, two cats and a partner to keep happy, and a stomach that wouldn’t stop growling.
“Of course I have to think of everything!”
Metal music was blasting in my ears as I dumped the dirty cat litter into the trash, expressionless. When I walked back into the house, something felt… off. But I couldn’t tell what it was.
Still irritated, thinking of all the tasks I had to do, I searched for something to eat. But wait, I was on a diet. So, coffee and some nuts it was.
“Damn this life! I’m juggling everything, and on top of that, I’m starving myself for a better body. I try to do two jobs at once, and what do I get in return? More work… Something’s gotta change.”
As I was thinking this, I spilled some coffee. Swore at it too.
I had exactly 19 nuts in my hand. I was eating them in a specific order, saving my favorites for last. First the walnuts, then almonds, then hazelnuts… completely unaware of the catastrophe waiting for me.
My head was pounding. Despite everything, I was feeling a deep urge to sleep. My partner was getting ready for a meeting.
“Wanna come with me?”
“No, I’ll just sleep a bit.”
Classic. Took a Parol and went to bed. I felt better when I woke up. I think. The cats had curled up beside me while I slept. I pet them for a long while, then realized I had a fever. I ignored it — another Parol and I’d be fine.
That evening, my fever was still rising. And there I was, still cooking a meal from my diet list. Even sick, I couldn’t afford to lose form. I ate, popped another Parol, and went back to bed.
Next morning, I woke up with full-body aches and no energy. I only had enough strength to prepare my diet breakfast. Banana, oats, peanut butter, yogurt… I don’t think I can ever eat those four together again.
After the glorious breakfast, the fever came back. “I’ll sleep it off,” I told my partner. He wanted to take me to a doctor, but I always felt like a burden. He’d have to take the car and everything… I’d forgotten what being in a relationship even meant.
Thankfully, he insisted, and we went to a doctor. The usual: IV fluids, bloodwork, “respiratory infection” diagnosis. Three prescriptions, one being an antibiotic. I still had a fever, but I thought the meds would fix it. Except I couldn’t take them. Why?
One antibiotic could cause an allergic reaction, the other could interact with my existing medication. So I was stuck with Parol again.
The next day I went to the family doctor to change the meds. I didn’t overthink it and took them. But I was still burning. The meds weren’t working.
That night, something really strange happened. I got up to go to the bathroom and almost collapsed. On the way back, I actually did fall. I could barely walk.
Next morning, I tried to go to the kitchen for breakfast. Terrible pain, fever, weakness. I couldn’t stand up. I threw myself onto a chair. My heart rate slowed down, I felt like vomiting. I tilted to the left, slumped in the chair. Suddenly, sweat poured from every part of me. Soaked, I tried to eat the breakfast my partner had prepared.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yep, totally fine.”
I couldn’t get up. While lying in bed, I was still trying to apply for sick leave from work. I wrote the request email with great difficulty and sent it off.
Things got worse. I couldn’t stand up easily anymore. My partner checked my fever. “You’ve got a 40°C fever,” he said. I didn’t believe him. “This thermometer’s broken!” I insisted. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe anything.
By evening, I finally accepted that something was seriously wrong. My partner took me to a private hospital, thinking it would be better. Same routine there: fluids, fluids, blood tests, brain MRI.
Then something weird happened — they found a lesion in my brain. I started laughing uncontrollably. “Nah, can’t be anything serious! Hahaha.” I kept laughing even when the doctor said the treatment would be expensive.
Back home, I still thought I’d get better. As if it was the end of the world, I kept laughing.
That evening, my speech started to falter. For some reason, I couldn’t see things up close either. When we went to bed, my partner asked if I needed anything. I asked to go to the bathroom one last time. And we slept. Well, he did. My body didn’t.
A few hours later, I had to go to the bathroom again. I wanted to call him, but I couldn’t see my phone screen clearly. I ended up calling my mom by mistake. “Why are you calling at this hour?” she asked, and I screamed “Hang up!” My voice sounded strange, even I couldn’t understand myself. Eventually I found my partner’s number, but he didn’t answer.
I tried going to him myself but fell again. It was pitch dark. I crawled, holding onto chairs. I fell a few more times. But I didn’t give up. How could he not hear me? Especially like this? I couldn’t grip the door handle. I screamed as loud as I could and fell again. My legs hurt.
He opened the door shouting — he always yells when woken up. But this time I was terrified. I was passed out on the floor, crying as he helped me to the bathroom.
The next morning, we both finally realized something was very wrong. And we headed to the hospital. That day… everything changed.
