If you're not bleeding, you're not hurt. If nobody died, you don't cry. If you're not throwing up, you're not sick. This was the way my parents had weeded out our angry tears we used to get our siblings in trouble and our actual hurt. It was how they persuaded us to go to school with a headache and only miss on the days we were actually sick. Although sometimes a bit harsh, there isn't a time I come to them in pain and in tears now that they don't know they aren't real and I really do need them. Even as a 21 year old woman, I follow—subconciously—these rules and I carry them with me.
Thus when I woke up with a pounding headache this morning, I tried to sleep it off. I didn't cry or fuss and had I had my own medicine (which I failed to pack) I wouldn't have even told anyone. I couldn't stand it much longer and so I went to my pais' bedroom door at 6am seeking help. They gave me some tylenol and when I went back to lay down I had this strange need to throw up again. I ran to the bathroom. Now the awful yet ironic part is that I was throwing up (sorry about all these stories) and I strained my back (which had been doing so well lately) in the same way I had strained it on Christmas Eve. As embarrassing and overwhelming I assume my own problems that I don't think others should have to deal with them, a part of me is glad they know here, that way they can help take care of me and understand my weird behavior a bit.
I was supposed to have traveled to a different city with my pais today to visit their other shop but instead I stayed home and slept in and am now watching movies with Laura and Henrique. Being inside today is going to be nice though, as I was out exploring the city again with my friend Bia. I love being back, even if I hate how my sinuses and my body are reacting to the warm weather.
Sorry about all the posts of being sick, but when one is sick, there isn't much else to do!