For the past several months, I've watched the Chinese people panic over "the swine." I laughed as they became OCD in taking our temperatures on a daily basis, mocked as we were ominously warned about N1H1 via verbal and written announcements, and rolled my eyes in contempt when my coworkers and classmates started wearing face masks.
Turns out? Swine flu? Not fun. Swine flu with asthmatic complications? stressful. Swine flu with complications in China? Horrific. A few months ago, I wrote about the terrible chinese hospitals and how I hoped I would never have to be in one. I really shouldn't tempt fate.
I had swine flu for two weeks, in which I was unable to do anything except be miserable, take the sugar pills that the Chinese refer to as medicine and get IVs. I couldn't go to the university- my professor called me to tell me I was very sick, I shouldn't come to class, and I should be in the hospital- so I missed two whole weeks of class. I was afraid to see anyone- I managed to infect at least seven people and made them ill as well.
When I finally emerged from the swine flu- 10 pounds lighter, dehydrated, with hands that were bruised purple from the multiple IVs I was coerced into getting and the voice of a dying cat- I emerged with the knowledge that Chinese medicine is pretty much worthless and their whole theory of medicine is based on the premise that hot water and heat heals all, which is most likely derived from the Chinese people's hatred of cold water, ice and all cold things.
No comments:
Post a Comment