She started the morning with a mysterious queasiness in her stomach, which progressed to body aches, a slight fever, and an inclination to vomit. As she lay tossing and turning, I decided that she was in no shape to attend worship services today.
I then went online and found out that there was a clinic at Jurong Point that was open today. We made our way there, and found the waiting room almost fully packed. This was a doctor with rare business acumen, having had the sense to operate when all the rest of the competing clinics were closed. The doctor was bald, and dressed in a polo tshirt with jeans. Dress Down Sunday I suppose.
Back home, Her Royal Majesty lay in a semi-comatose state while I fed her with porridge and tried to ensure that she was as comfortable as possible. She swallowed her pills and finally managed to go to sleep at about 5pm.
Two hours later, Her Royal Majesty decided that her plans for chawamushi would proceed as planned. Except that I, the publicly acknowledged culinary idiot, would be the one cooking it. Undeterred, she duly pointed me to the recipe, which was reasonably straightforward.
Fortunately, the steps were very much fool proof, and the results were still acceptable:
Her Royal Majesty was still suffering from a lack of appetite and called for some grapes and Milo for her dinner. Even then, she could only finish half of the portion that I gave her.
I then tucked her into bed, and fed her her medication. She responded by throwing up the entire contents of what she had consumed during the day. I was extremely thankful that I had prepared a fairly large plastic bag just in case this happened.
On the brighter side, Her Royal Majesty felt slightly better after barfing, and was strong enough to take her shower. I helped her to bed again. This time round, she slept soundly.
Take care my dear, I will check on you again. Even though I may be running around in the forests of Lim Chu Kang.
Miss you.
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