How does it feel to be sick?

Sticky fluid, denser than water, is constantly flowing through the nose. I – surrounded with 3 different white handkerchiefs for 3 different purposes – use one of them to wipe my red rose exactly when I feel the sticky fluid coming closer to the wide circular left opening, as much responsible for inhaling and exhaling air as the right opening of my outer nose. Though the left opening is blocked from the inside, it is somehow secreting this fluid to make me suffer for my earlier sins which I never committed. I can only inhale and exhale air through the right opening; left one is proving out to be of no use to me, rather seems responsible for creating ruckus in my mind.
 

One of the handkerchiefs as I stated above is for wiping the white glue coming out of my nose. Another one is for pervading the better odour of camphor all around me. Someone told my mom and my girlfriend together that odour of camphor can restrict the intrusion of H1N1 virus into my  perfect virus-host body. But I don’t really mind the soothing odour, it is better than no odour at all. And the last handkerchief is sprinkled with a liquid capsule full of mint smell, I am supposed to inhale it every minute keeping it close to my nose as if I am doing smack. This smacking exercise has helped me before but I am not sure it is helping me this time.
 

I got up late in the morning. I had maintained for past one week a habit to do yoga every day after defecating in the morning. I do yoga often but never been able to do it regularly. Something or the other thing always interrupts my spiritual engagements.
 

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I sat in Vajrasan, both my legs joining each other under my buttocks. This aasan or position helps in better digestion. Doing anulom vilom pranayam, as I inhaled air through left opening of my nose, keeping the right one closed using my right thumb, some fluid and mass slurped inside. I put my right middle finger on the left opening and let the air be exhaled through the right opening, but it was blocked, only a minuscule volume of air could come out making spaces through the heavily cordoned cylindrical opening. I attempted to inhale some air through the same opening in the exact same position but nothing went inside. Sometime, a sticky green fluid jumped out of my nose to spread over my mustache and lips. I washed and did the yoga again. I believe yoga is the only thing that keeps my mind running. I am able to write while being in such a pathetic sick state is only because I do yoga, and of course meditation, and other brain exercises.
 

This isn’t done yet. Fever came and went away; I took medicines, and it was cold in the middle of a sunny day and hot in the middle of a cool night. My body couldn’t remember if it is cold or warm outside. I was wearing a sweatshirt when everybody else was wearing t-shirts. I was hiding under my quilt, when ceiling fans were running over everyone’s heads. Severe headache nagged my mind for some parts of the day. I felt nauseated one time due to severe cough. I still watched movies and read books for most of my time managing a calm mind. But it isn’t a good feeling to be sick. You desperately want to be well again. You can not take it to not being able to do things that you love doing. It is more difficult for a writer because writing is the result of thinking and thinking becomes paralytic when you are sick.
 

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All this stay balanced – like a see-saw balanced over a pointy wedge – over a hope.
 

A hope to be become well within few days, a hope to be able to see the sun rising from the east, a hope to have all the clog removed from mind, a hope to be able to breathe and eat freely. We all hope to be well again as soon as we get sick, and we only survive the sick state because of our perseverance to be well again.
 

Isn’t it one of the greatest pleasures to become well again after a week spent in bed?

Well, I am only writing this piece because I can not tolerate to be sick anymore. I want to behave as if I am well and I will be well again.

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