And yesterday you concluded that I was hit by dengue again.
Each minute was a torment. It took you thirty minutes to arrive home and all I could do was count the seconds. And each minute was painful. Too painful that I was drifting with a throbbing temple and each last message I sent to you was all I could think of, counting the syllables
"Ma, yayay."
At least I got hit when I am staying at your house. Otherwise, I don't know what else would happen if I were alone and my knees and back hurt while I was chilling in bed.
Only a mom knows what to do, skillfully not wasting any time giving what is needed.
My nurse and doctor.
My mom.
