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  • Writer's pictureAsad Reza Nassur

Surviving Dengue Fever: My Personal Account - Part One

I didn't anticipate facing such an incident (hospitalization) for at least another decade, but I suppose some things have a knack for arriving earlier than expected. Getting humbled by a mosquito bite can be quite an intriguing experience. It served as a stark reminder of my mortality and highlighted how little control I truly have over my body in a crisis situation – I transformed into more of a reluctant guest than the original owner. This is my dengue story and the journey that led me to a wheelchair, prompting me to question how I ended up there in the first place.


The onslaught of fever had never hit me this hard before. Typically, it would last a couple of days, a few paracetamol tablets, and I'd bounce back to normal. Occasionally, it would linger for up to five days, but it had been over a decade since the last time. This time around, it felt different – the paracetamol left me drier than a loaf of bread left out for too long, a peculiar anomaly. Concerned, I called my cousin over, and we headed to the nearest hospital. As it turned out, my temperature had soared to around 104 degrees Celsius, necessitating an immediate IV and a battery of blood tests.


This marked the beginning of a series of first-time experiences I would encounter in the coming week – from the insertion of a cannula (long story short, the nurse was a gem, and the flood gates stayed sealed) to contemplating every decision made in the last 48 hours as I lay watching the IV slowly trickle into my bloodstream. After over an hour, the nurse returned with my results – I was dengue positive. I patiently awaited my second IV to finish before meeting the doctor again, who prescribed a regimen of tablets, ample rest, copious water consumption, and electrolytes for the next three days. While my cousin fetched the prescribed meds, I headed to the emergency room to have the needle removed from my hand. Upon returning home, I decided to make a few calls.


For the next 90 minutes, I felt invincible. If people claim alcohol is liquid courage, I'd argue that a couple of saline bags with multivitamins and paracetamol can make you feel like a king. I had boundless energy, conversing with family members while pacing back and forth in the hall. However, as every king's reign must come to an end, so did mine, lasting under two hours. Gradually, my newfound energy dissipated, and I became fatigued and mildly irritated.


The remainder of the day was spent lying in bed, notifying my manager that I wouldn't be able to log in to work the next day. Attempting to distract myself with YouTube proved futile. I managed to have a bowl of sweet corn soup (I'm sure it was delightful, but my taste buds had just started to deceive me) for dinner and succumbed to sleep after a brief episode of chills.


And thus, the first day of my dengue experience unfolded. I hope you enjoyed reading along and perhaps shared a random chuckle along the way. As always, take care, stay safe, be happy, and, yeah, do your best to avoid those mosquitoes.


Disclaimer: As always ChatGPT was my loyal editor here once again.

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