When I was a child, getting sick was rarely ever a worry. Of course it sucked but it's not something to send me into a fluster often. Mother and Father (mostly Mother) would usually know what to do, with their old wives' cures and if all that fails, there's always the 24 hours clinic.

I remember the one time when I got really worried was when I woke up one morning to the unfortunate discovery of glued eyelids. Big cause of worry indeed for a five year old. Mother solved it by dissolving the crud that stuck my lids together with water-moistened wool.

These past five weeks not being able to breathe well, perpetual headaches, near-constant myalgia, dry coughs that threatened to herniate my guts into my ball sack and the pseudo-food poisoning that rounded it all up near the end pretty much angered and depressed me to a point where I began to be mean and judgemental to people in the vicinity. Talk about collateral damage.

It worried me very much this time round as it hit home that if anything more serious were to befall unto me, I'm more or less screwed, with one strained family relation (read; they think I'm crazy, or something along those lines) in a foreign country and currently with an unintentionally shady dwelling addresses history. Seeing a doctor here is far more painful than simply walking into a clinic back home. Major suckage.

Period cramps are awful.