Down with the 病痛
I've been sick the last few weeks. Now I haven't been in bed the whole time, but I have been heralding my coming with some stupendous coughing. I most likely have bronchitis, which takes at least three weeks to clear up. So...any day now?
In Cantonese, sick is 病咗 beng6 zo2 or 唔舒服 m4 syu1 fuk6 (not comfortable). I learned pretty quickly that, no matter what the dictionary says or my years of Spanish conditioning, you cannot say 有病 yau5 beng6. Well, unless you want to say that you are mentally ill and leave your coworkers laughing at you for ten minutes. Because that's always fun.
I seem get sick here more often than in the US. Probably a combination of the humid weather (which traps germs in the air) and the constant crowding. Disease travels fast when you're always squeezing ten people into one lift (I mean elevator). It's unavoidable.
Before, I even put myself in more danger by being a teacher. And not only a teacher, but a tutor! I was trapped for an hour or hour and a half in a tiny box-like room sitting right across from my coughing, runny-nosed student. Like most Westerners, I never liked wearing masks before, but after getting sick almost every two months for year, I have become a convert. Now whenever I see a tot sneezing snotballs, I slap on a mask and reach for my hand sanitizer. Now I only get sick two or three times a year.
Being sick really sucks when you live alone. During my studio days, one time I came down with a fever 發燒 faat3 siu1. The night was no longer young, but I felt like my face was going to melt off, so I staggered out into the street to try to hunt down some medicine at a pharmacy. 藥房 Yoek6 fong4 after 藥房 were closed, their solid metal gates mocking me.
Out of desperation, I wandered into a Wellcome (yes, there is an extra l in the name of this supermarket; thanks for noticing). Despite my soaring temperature and foggy mind, I managed to remember how to ask for medicine.
" 藥 ." I croaked at one of the staff. "你有冇藥 ? Lei5 yau5 mou5 yoek6?"
I'm not entirely sure if she understood me or not, but I am sure that her answer was a resounding: " 冇呀 Mou5 a3."
Defeated and empty-handed, I climbed up the Everest-like stairs to reach street level. When I stepped out from under the building's overhang, I was pelted with large drops. Rain. Did my fever-clouded mind remember to bring an umbrella? Of course not.
I dragged myself back home through the downpour, vaguely feeling like the heroine in a tragic movie. Although maybe the cold rain brought my fever down. Maybe.
It's much nicer being sick when other people are around. Now I can yell for my roommate to bring me a bucket or ask one of them to buy me crackers and applesauce at the store. One roommate even has a thermometer! From now on, during my roommate interviewing process, I will always ask if they have a thermometer. Or even better, Nyquil. We're dangerously low at the moment.
Although actually, now that I think about it, I believe I caught this sickness from the thermometer-owning roommate. I may have left teaching, but I haven't left my roommates. The germ-spreading continues.
So maybe I should consider living alone again after all.... 安全啲
In Cantonese, sick is 病咗 beng6 zo2 or 唔舒服 m4 syu1 fuk6 (not comfortable). I learned pretty quickly that, no matter what the dictionary says or my years of Spanish conditioning, you cannot say 有病 yau5 beng6. Well, unless you want to say that you are mentally ill and leave your coworkers laughing at you for ten minutes. Because that's always fun.
I seem get sick here more often than in the US. Probably a combination of the humid weather (which traps germs in the air) and the constant crowding. Disease travels fast when you're always squeezing ten people into one lift (I mean elevator). It's unavoidable.
Before, I even put myself in more danger by being a teacher. And not only a teacher, but a tutor! I was trapped for an hour or hour and a half in a tiny box-like room sitting right across from my coughing, runny-nosed student. Like most Westerners, I never liked wearing masks before, but after getting sick almost every two months for year, I have become a convert. Now whenever I see a tot sneezing snotballs, I slap on a mask and reach for my hand sanitizer. Now I only get sick two or three times a year.
Being sick really sucks when you live alone. During my studio days, one time I came down with a fever 發燒 faat3 siu1. The night was no longer young, but I felt like my face was going to melt off, so I staggered out into the street to try to hunt down some medicine at a pharmacy. 藥房 Yoek6 fong4 after 藥房 were closed, their solid metal gates mocking me.
Out of desperation, I wandered into a Wellcome (yes, there is an extra l in the name of this supermarket; thanks for noticing). Despite my soaring temperature and foggy mind, I managed to remember how to ask for medicine.
" 藥 ." I croaked at one of the staff. "你有冇藥 ? Lei5 yau5 mou5 yoek6?"
I'm not entirely sure if she understood me or not, but I am sure that her answer was a resounding: " 冇呀 Mou5 a3."
Defeated and empty-handed, I climbed up the Everest-like stairs to reach street level. When I stepped out from under the building's overhang, I was pelted with large drops. Rain. Did my fever-clouded mind remember to bring an umbrella? Of course not.
I dragged myself back home through the downpour, vaguely feeling like the heroine in a tragic movie. Although maybe the cold rain brought my fever down. Maybe.
It's much nicer being sick when other people are around. Now I can yell for my roommate to bring me a bucket or ask one of them to buy me crackers and applesauce at the store. One roommate even has a thermometer! From now on, during my roommate interviewing process, I will always ask if they have a thermometer. Or even better, Nyquil. We're dangerously low at the moment.
Although actually, now that I think about it, I believe I caught this sickness from the thermometer-owning roommate. I may have left teaching, but I haven't left my roommates. The germ-spreading continues.
So maybe I should consider living alone again after all.... 安全啲
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