I actually have no idea as to what “being sick” should really mean for an ordinary child. For one, back then, that was the least (if not, NONE) of our concerns (especially, now that we are already grown up) But my memories, now I find amusing and which gets me wondering. Well, if we take me, as ordinary and normal, “being ill” meant:
1. Being excused from going to school, skipping scheduled exams, yet getting a special quiz for the same topic-for which I would have longer time to study than my classmates have had the chance of, and then get higher grades, hehehe.
2. More time for playing “Chinese garter”. I would tie the ends of a long string of intertwined rubbers in any available posts – from our sofa to our door, to a hook that anchored my baby picture. Even if I have to hammer down a nail in the wall and ruin its paint, as long as I could hang it! I was very good at this game by the way, having acted always as the leader (with some of my members actually taller than me) whenever we would have this game in school (which would be everyday). I'd wait for my mother to take off for work, before playing, then would hurriedly “tidy up” all “evidence” before tucking up myself in bed and finally putting a damp cloth in my forehead (really!). By that time, my temperature would have temporariy gone down (out of perspiration) before going up again in the evening (out of dehydration).
3. A justification for gnawing Aspilets one after the other! I have an addiction for this as back in the old days (they were once made up of Aspirin – the same one that’s being used for heart problems), they'd taste like candies. Unlike the new ones, which now has a bitter taste.
4. Getting “pasalubong” - a slice of leche flan (yummy!) and a royal true orange.
5. Receiving a sponge bath. Whenever I'd become ill, my mother would render me a procedure, that I remembered more as a ritual, which I really dreaded but which was inevitable at that time. This actually would form the highlight of the sickrole. Usually on the night of the second day (which is the height of fever), my mother would prepare a concoction – a mixture of slightly cooled boiled water (note slightly) and alcohol – which she'd sponge bathe my body with. Because this infusion is really hotter than lukewarm (enough to give me first degree burn actually, had the moistened towel stayed in my skin much longer), I would cry during the whole process (yes, out of pain!). But the hottest part (literally) would be when she'd soak both my feet in a basin full of a newly prepared mixture (of the same temperature, but to the sole of my feet – which is more scientifically sensitive than skin – scorchingly hot!) for several minutes! At this time, I would lay quiet but not out of relief, rather out of exhaustion. By the time, we are finished, my fever would be down several degrees (just imagine the tremendous amount of sweat my body has shed out), but to my mother, it would be yet another demonstration of the effectivity of her formula.
This was how I defined being sick as a child. That is again, if we take "me" as ordinary and normal. Hehehe.
1. Being excused from going to school, skipping scheduled exams, yet getting a special quiz for the same topic-for which I would have longer time to study than my classmates have had the chance of, and then get higher grades, hehehe.
2. More time for playing “Chinese garter”. I would tie the ends of a long string of intertwined rubbers in any available posts – from our sofa to our door, to a hook that anchored my baby picture. Even if I have to hammer down a nail in the wall and ruin its paint, as long as I could hang it! I was very good at this game by the way, having acted always as the leader (with some of my members actually taller than me) whenever we would have this game in school (which would be everyday). I'd wait for my mother to take off for work, before playing, then would hurriedly “tidy up” all “evidence” before tucking up myself in bed and finally putting a damp cloth in my forehead (really!). By that time, my temperature would have temporariy gone down (out of perspiration) before going up again in the evening (out of dehydration).
3. A justification for gnawing Aspilets one after the other! I have an addiction for this as back in the old days (they were once made up of Aspirin – the same one that’s being used for heart problems), they'd taste like candies. Unlike the new ones, which now has a bitter taste.
4. Getting “pasalubong” - a slice of leche flan (yummy!) and a royal true orange.
5. Receiving a sponge bath. Whenever I'd become ill, my mother would render me a procedure, that I remembered more as a ritual, which I really dreaded but which was inevitable at that time. This actually would form the highlight of the sickrole. Usually on the night of the second day (which is the height of fever), my mother would prepare a concoction – a mixture of slightly cooled boiled water (note slightly) and alcohol – which she'd sponge bathe my body with. Because this infusion is really hotter than lukewarm (enough to give me first degree burn actually, had the moistened towel stayed in my skin much longer), I would cry during the whole process (yes, out of pain!). But the hottest part (literally) would be when she'd soak both my feet in a basin full of a newly prepared mixture (of the same temperature, but to the sole of my feet – which is more scientifically sensitive than skin – scorchingly hot!) for several minutes! At this time, I would lay quiet but not out of relief, rather out of exhaustion. By the time, we are finished, my fever would be down several degrees (just imagine the tremendous amount of sweat my body has shed out), but to my mother, it would be yet another demonstration of the effectivity of her formula.
This was how I defined being sick as a child. That is again, if we take "me" as ordinary and normal. Hehehe.
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