Chicken Pox: A Story of Survival

Do you know about chicken pox? Have you ever been attacked by it? 

Well, more than two decades of my life passed away swiftly without the varicella virus finding me. And when I was finally starting to relish my time away from home, this sainted disease found a way to invariably skirmish my anatomy.  

The condition of chicken pox doesn't just show up one fine day. It starts mild and slow. It doesn't kill you off with a quick fatality but wipes you out every single day sluggishly. A gentle fever and body weakness are just the perfect signs of this slow massacre. Being away from the protective shades of your home, you don't pay much heed to such anomalies. That's the biggest advantage these micro-organisms have towards their main target of obliteration. On a fine Monday morning when the first signs of blisters appeared on my face, I ignored it thinking it to be acne. I do not possess the face that girls might want to drool over, hence acne is the least of my problems! But as the boils grew more elaborate and brimming the next day, I almost had a mini heart-attack. I wished it to be a bad dream although deep inside I already knew the game's over.  At first, I didn't possibly know what these signs were of. I didn't want to start the panic attack back home, so I kept that as a secret from mom. A sudden alarm of terror had already begun inside me because I hadn't come across anything of this magnitude before.  I felt like a Golem. I had kept my options open for ebola, zika virus attack or even rabies, although I wasn't attacked by any dog since my birth. There were so many wide range of possibilities. I googled the symptoms for all possible prospects. On one search result, Google declared that I had Cancer.

After a heartbreaking acceptance that I had indeed been diagnosed with chicken pox, came my glorious bedridden days of self-anhiliation. Sitting and sleeping all day, doing nothing other than daydreams and wishes, which would never even come true, sounds really sick. Not able to go out and have my considerable doses of fast food was the worst. Days were long and nights even longer because insomnia was simultaneously having an open relationship with me along with the pox. The blisters came up in the rarest of body parts, even those 'You Know Which' parts! My skin looked like a terrible work of MF Husain with his worn out brush. Sometimes when I would accidentally scratched any area of pustule, a nuclear power blast took place in my brain which would have really impressed the leaders of North Korea. If I had shrieked at that pain, the frequency would have hit sonic boom. After 10 full days of tormented hibernation, my condition improved. Not that I was cured but if I gave you a scale of measurement, I was now KRK if earlier I was Gurmeet Ram Rahim Insaan minus the excessive bodily hairs. The only good thing that I could count was that I would now be immune to the varicella virus for eternity. But who cares. In a world full of liberal clowns, being a joker isn't bad enough. Even now, my face sports those horrible sacs of sore and non-explainable pieces of canker which makes me look like a disintegrating form of Yoda.

All hail the Vericella Virus!