Revisiting the blueberry tragedy :)

Hello again internetters,

Am back (not that it is going to make anyone ecstatic!).  But what am I going to rant about this time?? Well, it can't be chickenpox for one cos I got rid of it years ago, thanks to the extraordinarily soul-jolting taste of blueberry juice. If I remember correctly, I was quite nasty and mean about its taste at that time. And if I also remember correctly, it had one of the most horrid tastes possible for something as gentle as fruit juice. Therefore blueberry lovers won't blame me if I have stayed away from this exotic juice since then. The trauma of the taste still lingers on my shocked taste buds and I have justifiably kept my distance from the stacks of  blueberry juice stocks in the supermarkets.

However, day before yesterday, I was feeling thirsty while passing through city centre and decided to get meself something to  wet my throat with. Wierdly, the first thing I noticed on entering a shop was a row of Lucozade bottles, and you guessed it -  blueberry flavour. As if the tragedy of being thirsty in a busy street was not enough! My stars must have been controlled by some unusually kindred and jolly meteor at the time, or it might be a huge cosmological joke that I decided to prove that I wasn't a prejudiced, narrow-minded twat who couldn't see good in something after making up his mind. Also, I used the logic of wine making. You see, I figured out that as wine ages, its taste, value, fun and appeal rises exponentially over the years. Also, the tannins responsible for providing the bitter taste in many of the wines mellows with age, leaving a satisfactory lingering on your tongue after a good sip. Therefore, without any scientific proof to support my comparison of a timeless classic glass of wine and a  blueberry flavoured energy drink on the shelf of a store, I again believed (or rather hoped) that the inevitable gap between my last swig of the juice and the immediate looming prospect of another one might have mellowed the notoriety which I accused it of (it deserved every single bit of it I might hastily add).
Thus armed once again with the naivety and optimism which is copyright of Sags (refer to my chickenpox rants to get what I am on about), I picked up a suspiciously purple looking bottle from the fridge and advanced to payment counter, ignoring all the evolutionary instincts to reconsider my chivalry. Thus after taking a leap of blind faith (or it might be the leap of reconsidered faith), I opened the cap slowly, determined not to remember my last encounter and not to be prejudiced. I also had the added hope that since I was feeling so thirsty, my body would gladly welcome any fluid to enter in time of need. Another example for people who think that Sagittarian hope and optimism has any limits. Although I have taken almost half a page to describe the tempest in the tea-cup of my brain before actually taking the sip, it would seem unrealistic if I were to say all these thoughts and philosophical counter-attacks hardly took one minute.
Now the moment of truth! I have accidently taken a full swig of kerosene in place of water in my previous life and I have to admit that it was subtle in its horrifying effects. More to the point, all the horrors started to sink in once I realised that I have actually drunk almost 200 ml of kerosene and not because of the taste  of kerosene oil itself. On the other hand, you know you are delving into a world of unknown and scary adventure with  blueberry juice the moment you unscrew the cap of the bottle. There is a perceptible warning hiss as soon as the seal is broken, immediately followed by strong pungent  blueberry smell, which I believe comes out as a disclaimer to the drinker - "The bottle takes no liability for your actions if you choose to drink the fluid inside."
Moving on, I inhaled deeply and ignoring the disclaimer, closed my eyes and took a deliberate long swig from the bottle. To maintain the sense of fairness in my test, I gave it the same respect I would give a classic glass of wine I mentioned earlier. I twirled it around in my mouth with my tongue, allowing all my taste-buds to have an individual go in their jurisdiction and then held it in the back of my throat for few seconds for added effect before swallowing it. It would be fruitless to even try to put in words the price I paid for giving it a fair test. It should suffice to say that we both held our ground very well indeed. The  blueberry juice proved that first impressions are not necessarily fickle and temporary and I proved that I was a nobleman who gave everyone a fair chance, unlike majority of the narrow-minded, mentally cob-webbed, prejudiced and pre-opinionated twats who harp on their "personal-experiences" to inspire others. 

Suffering from chickenpox? Welcome to the party :D

How did I get it: From a friend who got it from a friend who imported it from India. Since I had taken a vaccination for chickenpox (Okavax or something like that), I felt pretty safe in being in attendance for the aforesaid friend while he was confined to his room. Alas, no one told me that the vaccine is only effective for 5 years. And I had taken it when I was around 12 years old! Not surprising then, I spotted a tiny bubble on my left arm couple of days after my repeated good-samaritan visits. The first thought in my mind was "Oh hell! the vaccine has failed." But being the ever optimistic Saggitarian that I am, I forced myself to believe that it was a pimple. And to prove my point, took an exhaustive antibacterial bath for half an hour.

The onset: Even the appearance of couple more watery pimple-like bubbles on the back of my neck by evening were not sufficient to ebb out my optimism and I was very naively hoping that this was the last of the spots. However, I could not suppress a tiny voice at the back of my mind that it was indeed the onset of chickenpox. Within a span of 24-40 hours, there were few more spots on my tummy and much more on my back. Finally, I surrendered my mental protests to the inevitable and emailed my supervisor to inform him of the price of being a good-samaritan. I got two weeks off with kind advises and well wishes. 

Riding the storm: While I was feeling slightly feverish from the start of first spot, the manifestations became evident after two days. I had very high fever and my body looked like that of a dalmatian. The highest density of spots was on my back, which could be compared to a white porcelain plate full of mustard seeds ( many of them pea-sized). The second highest density was on my front torso. I went to NHS walk-in centre next day, only to be told that there was no apparent treatment for chickenpox and that I had to take paracetamol after every 4 hours. They also suggested to use some cream for excessive itching on the spots. Seeing that I was already taking paracetamol for my fever, and had no patience with the itching cream, I returned back to my room without gaining much insight into my condition. The next 4 days were horrible. Constant perspiration, shivering and high fever throughout those four days. Sleep was out of question and it was paracetamol which provided enough relief to be able to visit the restroom couple of times a day. Although I must admit, being in bed continuously for four days with no company did provide me enough time to go over all my heroic and not-so-heroic deeds since my childhood and to sort those out which needed commendation and those which needed repentance. The list of latter was much longer than the list of former, but I did not dwell on it much because it was time to take paracetamol :) 

I would like to mention something at this point, which is very important and the only reason for me to write this blog is - I had far less spots on my body and hardly few on my face. While all the people whom I have seen suffering from chicken-pox, had infinite number of spots all over their body and their faces resembled that of the far side of moon. I do not have a scientific explanation for this luck but I would like to hazard few common sense guesses:

a. I have a better immune system. 

b. Virus was unnaturally kind on me in its effect.

c. It might have been sheer luck with which all Saggitarians are bestowed with.

d. OR, it might have been the way I behaved during those four days. I will explain:

                    I was unable to take solid food during those four days. Partially because it was too painful to think of eating and partially because it meant cooking. Therefore, I survived on juice. The friend who suffered from chickenpox before me was kind enough to bring litres of juice to my room everyday. The ones you find in marts and corner stores; mango juice, tropical juice and others. It is worth mentioning that he also got blueberry juice once, which was so horrible in taste, it might have been the sole reason for the virus to make a hasty departure from my body. So I had litres and litres of juice in those four days, believing that the antioxidants and other good things in juices help maintain good skin and give the body power. Guess it worked for me, because at the end of it all, I escaped with a fraction of normal number of spots people get. And those spots disappeared pretty quickly after that. While the same friend did not take juices and his face and body remained polka-dotted for many months. 

Secondly, I changed my dress and bed-sheets everyday, despite every thought of not doing it. It must have helped, because in a way, I was removing all the external viruses from my clothes, pillow-cover and bed. So, less number of viruses means less horror in the end. 

So, in summary, I would suggest someone suffering from chickenpox to stay calm, take paracetamols regularly, never to scratch the over-itchy spots, maintain cleanliness and take plenty of juices. Once you are over the worst phase, double and treble wash all your clothes and your belongings. It should prevent the spread of chickenpox. Lastly, thank nature for providing a life-lasting immunity and vaccination against many such similar viruses without the cost running in hundreds of pounds!! Oh! And don't forget to give blueberry juice a try!