Sick in Tokyo

 

By Al S. Mendoza

TOKYO—Against doctor’s advice—strongly backed by my wife—I did this piece.

I know it ain’t right. I am that stubborn.

I could defy my Japanese doctor here, but never my wife.

Before this disobedience, I heeded her almost 99 percent.

Yes, mothers know best.

But because I’m unreachable, there’s that courage to ignore conventions.

I admit I am still a bit sick.

I pray won’t suffer a relapse.

I fell ill here since Monday.

Fever, severe headache, body joint pains, and bronchial infection that inflamed my throat.

I took biogesic, decolgen and the antibiotic Levox.

No effect.  Fever is on and off, headache and joint pains just won’t go away.

My coverage of the Tokyo Motor Show went pffft.

Now of its 45th edition, this would have been my 13th straight stint to cover the biennial event—again, thanks to Toyota Motor Philippines’ invite.

I love cars and it is in this event, one of only four major car international events, that concept vehicles aka rides of the future are displayed in a sea of car bonanza.

I’ve been covering it since 1993. That long.

When my condition was not improving on Tuesday, Toyota’s Vice President Carlo S. Ablaza brought me to the Sendagaya International Clinic in Shinjuko.

I hate hospitals, but Carlo was adamant—genuinely concerned when he finally saw me for the first time as looking pale and limp as Japanese ramen.

At Sendagaya, the doctor immediately fired me in the throat with a tiny gadget.

Its screen showed 38.8.

“That’s your fever,” said the English-speaking (fluent), white-haired doctor.  “I need to blood-test you.”

He’d draw blood from my middle right finger.

“Is it painful Dac? I hate needles.”

“No, it’s not,” he said.

Of course, he lied.

I jumped up from my chair when he finally pricked my finger.

In 10 minutes, he was back from the lab-test.

“I need to pump you with massive antibiotics via intravenous,” he said.  “A bit serious. You know, there’s an outbreak of influenza in Tokyo.”

A nurse would administer it.

When I saw the needle, I asked her, “Is it painful?  I hate needles.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, smiling.  “We use the tiniest needles here.”

She lied, too.

When she injected it into my right arm, I almost cried in pain.

Said Carlo: “Relax, sir.  Think that it will do you good.”

After 20 minutes, the bottle the size of an extra large peanut butter hanging by my side was finally emptied of liquid antibiotics.

“You will be better tomorrow,” Dac said.

He gave tablets good for five days—a total of 62!

Broken down to 10 Ce Lecox, 20 Clarith, 12 Mucodyne, 20 Calona.

I skipped my sports columns on Wednesday at Business Mirror and my SunStar pieces on Friday and Saturday.

But not here.  I labored writing it because that’s how much I love you fellers.

My kababayans always come first.

May I request a small favor?

Please pray for me.

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