I wandered aimlessly around my bedroom for close to a minute in total darkness, trying to figure out whether I should, or not, switch on the air-conditioning. Just two hours before I was lying on my bed (that was ten), clad only in my jeans, and sweating myself in this moist cabin.
A short account of the previous few days would do good. A rehearsal at St Mary of the Angels, with my cello still missing its A-string. For the 2nd time running we rehearsed Schubert's Ave Maria, but with fewer instruments because the rest couldn't make it. By the time I got back, it was already early evening, and Chi Ling and I did well to finish watching License to Wed. Ma Yanjie desperately needed a partner to watch it with, but she watched it solo anyway on the other couch.
We waited for Aunty to get back home, and we reckoned that we should watch Night at the Museum 2 together since it was going to be another Family Day.
Now here's the part that showed me something important for the rest of my life. No, it's not another reflection on my part, no, but really, a physical ailment. My dad ordered steamboat on behalf of himself and Aunty, myself reluctant and my other being quiet about it, while MYJ suffered from a case of diarrhoea, subjected to my endless teasing (which had its retribution).
We were at our favourite Hong Kong restaurant (probably the only one in Jurong Point) once again, with all the food fare that we usually had. But today had to be special, because they were offering a package, and the package had to include the elusive drunken chicken.
It had been known since time immemorial that I have an alcohol allergy, or either that, am extremely sensitive to alcohol. Just one spoonful of drunken chicken, I was down. At first I thought it was just myself, imagining that there was a raging storm within my walls, but it wasn't.
I wasn't imagining. So here I was in the brightly-lit room, the two adults leaning against the glass wall opposite us, on my left my mei (:O, yes since ChiLing calls her that) and on my right ChiLing. The lanterns hanging overhead did drift in different hues, and my vision blurred several times as a immediate response. A plastic bag was soon at my disposal, and my attempts to retch out the wretched liquid was to no avail.
Meanwhile, I think we were there for a total of 15 minutes, myself suffering not so quietly, MYJ silent with the incessant thought of diarrhoea. My other got up to get medicated oil and she returned swiftly, the contents of the dial dabbed onto myself to sooth the pain. No, it wasn't a brilliant pain, but it was spasmic, and I could feel them shifting and groaning as the supposed cause traversed its normal course.
The walk up to the cinemas was itself a terror, and I once-again nearly vomited into the plastic bag.
Night at the Museum 2 was generally amusing, but it severely lacked coherence and we both agreed our intelligence (if we had any) went down. By a lot. But it was innocent kid fun, I guess. So not much to mention here.
The climax of the show undoubtedly came at the last part, when my eyes started itching. And they itched more when the show ended. By the time the credits came, it had hit upon both of us (we were sitting behind Dad Aunty MYJ) that my eyelids were swelling, and for myself, that I would soon be practically blind.
From this point onwards I could seriously not get a hold of anything, except that I proceeded the staircase with no incident, but I literally had to be led by the hand. While waiting for the car to arrive, I decided the best way to hide that hideous face of mine (for two bunions for eyes don't make a good human) was to cover it with the hood of my jacket.
Everything after that was a blur, and I suppose I had fell under the onslaught of the minutest spoonful of alcohol.
Every loud thud or sound rattled my brain, and there were consistent flashes of black lines that zipped across my eyes. The world seemed to be whirling around slowly, and I dozed off several times (or drifted in and out of consciousness), only to wake up hearing the sounds of my girl calling her mum to know where the nearest clinic or hospital is. I think. I think that I might have shouted 'Thank You Aunty' to the phone, but even this needs confirmation from witnesses.
I remember vaguely being bundled out of the car, and as you all know my vision was limited to only the ground beneath me, even with it a black line consistently hovered across, and that was the hood. A change of environment, the black night washed away by a sterile light, a greenish-white.
I thought it was a clinic, but only much later did I realize that I was in a hospital, a West Point Hospital. And that I was in the Accident and Emergency Department - my queue number, if there was even a queue, was 3035. Last check on 4D yielded no results.
One of the clearest instances of the entire hospital trip was the temperature taking, that comforting protrusion into your ear, a fuzzy feeling, a click.
"It's only my eyes that are inflamed, not my ears," I had said at one point. Either the nurse got too tired, or she just had a terrible day, but I heard no response. Probably she laughed, but the thermometer prevented any sound from reaching my drugged ears.
An injection was obviously performed, because not long after my right arm felt a burning pain, the muscle having been penetrated and the medicine dealt. This pain lasted for several days, and was evident during my Chopin performance the next day, which I would elaborate upon later.
It must be known that I didn't take much notice of the pain at all, simply because I was in such a stupor, that any bright lights or loud noises would only startle me, and stimulate all my bodily muscles into a tense fit, only relaxing after a few seconds. This condition continued right until the third day of my poisoning, where the alcoholic effects finally started wearing off.
[a reminder to the reader that it was only a sip of drunken chicken soup]
Also imperative to note that not at any point of this post have I exaggerated a single word, and I am merely describing my experiences at that point of time.
Returning from this digression, the ride back home was essentially missing, because the next time I opened my eyes ChiLing was no longer in the car, and for once I had failed to preserve my sanity enough to step out of the car and ensure her safe passage home. Upon discussion we both realized that this was wholly impossible, and I might have been a burden should I concur to faint in the lift or along the walkway.
I found myself in bed the next morning, and was told that I had fell down upon the floor in an attempt to remove my shoes. My socks were miraculously off, but my polo, jeans and belt were expectantly, still on. At this point I was reminded of a joke told to me a few years back, when a boy had fell asleep after physically pleasuring himself, only to find the next morning that he was clothed in his entirety.
Hardly a joke, but terribly amusing-amusingly terrible experience one could be in. To thus step out into the living room and find both parents at breakfast as if nothing had happened, to ask what state he had been found in the previous night.
"We figured out you had such a sneeze that your mucus went everywhere, and the obvious cause being that you weren't dressed, thus being exposed to the winds, my dear. So we clothed you."
Ah, it's only human to digress.
This day I wake up to would be Monday, June 1.
My eyelids were still in its enlarged state, but only less. I was fed half a dozen pills in one go, but I was willing to try anything that could rid me of the alcohol. Any intense stimulations caused all my muscles to contract, and my sense of balance could not be worse. I decided that I should continue watching the movies that I had borrowed from the Shaw Foundation Library, but could not bring myself to concentrate on them, for the fact remained that I still had to practise my Chopin.
Nothing much of interest happened in the afternoon, except that I went for rehearsal, which involved much shifting of chairs and sofas, and I wasn't of much help either. I was half asleep most of the time, and only awoke when there were exceptionally sudden motions, one of them being Thomas Ang's slam upon the table, which left me reeling.
Whilst on a stroll with my beautifully-dressed girl back to the ArtsHouse, I lost my balance after swivelling my head to take a view of the Central Business Area. This was not surprising then, considering we were walking on a sloping platform, and the buildings loomed so majestically over me.
The performance that ensued in the evening was without incident, and no chandeliers dropped while I played my Nocturne. Thank you to all who came to support me, the four most important being my Dad, Aunty, MYJ and ChiLing. You lovely people.
The rest of the night was spent getting ChiLing to Pre-U Seminar, at 11pm. And thus ends my Monday, which was spent mostly in a better state of mind, contrasting sharply with the horrific events of the day before.
Thus ends my narrative of my adventures. Do wait, if possible, with bated breath, for the next chapter. You might get to see more interesting shit.
Edgar Allan Poe is really cool.
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