"What's the matter, John?" Stella asked.
She was the one sitting closest to me and had been watching me for some time now. We were in the staff room computing the students result for the first term examinations and since we resumed by 9am, we had all almost immediately struck up a conservation and that had kept us busy and cheerful. But shortly into their work, she found out I had become quiet and a frown took over me face now and then. Sometimes I bent low with my head almost touching the table and the look on me face was as if I was feeling nausea.
"I don't feel too well" I replied. "My stomach hurts and I feel feverish"
"Sorry. Why not try go get some medications, I believe you will feel much better".
"Thank you. I will just manage since the work is not much. When we close, I will go to the pharmacist" I said.
"Alright. Sorry." She said.
But shortly after the conversation, I excused myself and went out to the patch of grass bordering the school's fence, doubled over and started throwing up. It was hurtful and it seems my heart will come out. I had not eaten much that morning, just one snack and a cup of locally brewed beverage known as zobo. After throwing up a few more times, I felt the tight grip on my stomach loosen a bit but goosh! My chest burns!
I returned back to the staff room a bit relieved but weak. The principal seems to notice for the first time for he asked.
"John, what's the matter with you? You 've not been like your usual self today."
"Sir. I'm ill and I find it hard to concentrate on my work. My chest hurts! My head hurts! And my eyes feels like they are rolling in their sockets!" I struggled to say, breathing heavily.
"Sorry.' He said. With a look of concern in his eyes. "You can go home and rest. We still have five more days before closing for the term so you still have time to finish up, okay?"
I thanked him, took my bag and bade them goodbye for the day. I practically crawled home for it took me almost an hour to get home. A walk that normally takes just ten minutes.
"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked.
"Terrible, Sir" my head seems to be pounding, my eyes feel like I just did a 360 degree turn very fast over and over again and my chest burns!" I said. "Last night, I thought I wouldn't even make it to sunrise"
When I got home the previous day from school, I took a hot bath before going to the pharmacist to get some drugs. After explaining how I felt, he gave me some medication which I took after a very light and sparse meal. I had felt better few hours later but at night, I woke up to a splitting headache, was covered in sweat and my breathing became laboured. I had to struggle to my mother's room to rouse her and it was due to her constant mopping of my head with a towel soaked in cold water that I was able to remain stable. Once it was 5am, we had to go to the hospital.
The doctor nodded while I spoke and he scribbled some words on a piece of paper.
"Take this to the lab. They will run some tests on you then we know what treatment to offer you"
I took the piece of paper and met my mother at the waiting room then we made our way straight to the lab, fortunately it was not crowded. I gave the piece of piece to the lab technician and he waved me to a seat and a sample of my blood was taken.
"From the test results here, it seems you have stomach ulcer and also a fair high level of typhoid fever". The doctor said after I returned to his office with the tests results almost two hours after leaving his office earlier. " You should abstain from eating meals that are too spicy, sour or very hot. Also, avoid taking carbonated drinks for the main time and also alcohol, mostly dry gin".
He wrote down some prescription. I thanked him and left the office and made my way to the hospital's pharmacy to get the drugs.
On getting home, my younger sisters welcomed us and they seem very relieved to know that my illness was not severe.
"I prepared rice for you and a well spiced chicken stew, just how you like it" my immediate younger sister Helen said. She appeared pleased with herself.
My mouth immediately watered at the prospect of having a sumptous meal. "Serve me!" I said cheerfully.
But just as she was about to make a dash for the kitchen, my mother's voice stopped her in her track.
"Hold it, Helen! Don't serve him the meal yet. Prepare another pot of plain stew for him. No spice" and then she turned to me. "No more spicy food for you John. You will have your food plain from now on. Just what the doctor ordered!" She smiled.
My spirit sank.
