I supposed I could count myself fortunate that I was fit and
fine for the first 5 days of the trip, when most of the major meetings and visits
were scheduled. I could have been
careless, letting my guard down, either by not hydrating well enough or missing
my vitamin supplement for that day. It was towards the Saturday weekend evening
when the symptoms started telling their warning signs - aching in my joints and
a drastic reduction in appetite. All is not well.
Although most of the trip itinerary was done with, there was
still a remaining stint that require my two other travelling colleagues and I to
journey up north, cutting diagonally across almost the entire Scotland from
Glasgow into the Scottish Highlands and towards a small town called Forres,
located close to the North Sea coast and about 320km or a 3-4 hour drive from
Glasgow. Weather-wise, we could expect strong winds and chillier temperatures.
My weakening body, fresh host to the invading virus now playing havoc in my
system, trembled with this unwelcoming news from the weather forecast.
The Saturday night before the long drive up north was an
endless series of tosses and turning. My mind was stuck on fight mode, in a
perpetual state of delirium, too active to sink into restive dream-state and the sleep
my body was craving for, and any success to actually enter into sleep would be
quickly frustrated by my lungs exploding in successive staccatos of violent
coughing. My appetite for food was also
completely taken down by the intruding aliens. I managed only to nibble part of
a banana for my breakfast and drink some hot tea to sooth my throat, bruised by
the incessant coughing.
It was fortunate that we had another driver amongst our
traveling entourage of 3 persons and she was confident and adept at driving in
foreign soil. This was one tender mercy I should not discount. Not many
Singaporeans are experienced at overseas driving. That relieved me of the
responsibility and allowed me to rest over a larger part of the trip in the
back seat of our rented car. A 4 hour journey that require focussed
concentration in my current woozy mental state would be precarious.
Once out of Glasgow sub-urban, the Scottish Highlands
unfolded itself with picturesque beauty typical of the British countryside but
instead of the gentler rolling fields and knolls of the English landscape,
towering hills and mountains sweep majestically into the distance. In the
foreground, clumps of quaint stone cottages with the occasional small castle or
cathedral, surrounded by countless sheep and sometimes cows that dotted the broad
expanse of open fields all around told us that traditional farming is still
very much alive in this supposedly modern country. My two travelling companions seated in the
front were oozing “oohs” and “ahs” to the pristine beauty of the Scottish glens
and countryside.
But I spent most the trip huddled in the back seat, coughing
away pathetically and depriving me of restful moments. It was dreadful. But at
least I did not have to drive.
The next two days was a struggle. Cold weather with glorious
sunshine alternating with flurries of hailstone rain whenever a dark cloud
glided overhead. It was weather I had
never seen before. When the long meetings with our partners were finally over
and done with I was thankful. I had eaten very little, mostly soup and some
bread for each meal and real restful sleep was still escaping me.
The long-haul flight back home promised of better things to
come. Back home to warmer weathers and where I could immediately seek medical
attention. I hardly ate anything on the flight for fear of throwing up. It was
amazing that the business class food menu could boast of an amazing range of
dinner options but not a simple bowl of warm vegetable soup. I glanced under
the menu section of “Delectables” where passengers could choose a range of snacks
in-between meals. Tom Yam noodles. That sounded palatable enough. Instant
noodles it may be but I would stomach a few mouthfuls and ingest some of
the mildly spicy and hot soup served with it.
The stewardess who took my order was puzzled about my choice but did not
query or not try to change my mind.
Out of the airport gates, my boy, W picked me at the arrival
pick-up and quickly we were on our way back home. After a quick clean-up I made
my way to our neighbourhood clinic. The locum physician on duty prescribed a 5
day course of Augmentin anti-biotics. It
was four days since I caught the virus. I now wonder if the medical treatment has come
a little late. I was virtually fighting the virus on my own for the first 4
days without medication. Now nestled in the comfort of home, with medical leave
followed by a long weekend on account of 1st May being Labour Day, a
public holiday I have had plenty of rest and should be recovering well. But not
so this time. My head felt heavy, sleep
was still a rarity and always the violent spasms of coughing tearing up my
lungs despite four days of medication. Perhaps the viral strain from a foreign
country is proving itself to be a harder adversary for my body to deal with.
It may sound ridiculous and out of place. The compelling reason why I
was so racked by anxiety of not recovering quickly enough to restore my health was
mainly because of a mountain. Yes literally speaking, a mountain more than 4000
m in height which I have planned to climb. And the crucial date that is looming
closer with each day I spent languishing in bed – 8th of May, is less than a
week away. It would be expected to be the
most physically arduous venture I had undertaken all my life.
Mount Kinabalu is a mountain located somewhere in Borneo
Islands that is beckoning and for which a small group of friends and I have
made a date to climb. We have booked the trip early in the year and have been
meeting regularly every few weeks to trek around our nature reserves and build
our fitness to prepare for the climb. Like
the majority of leisure climbers we will be taking the easy route that requires
no mountaineering skills but the climber is still expected to be in very good
physical condition.
I had in the past floated the idea of climbing this mountain
to Jenny. But she was not an outdoor
person so the mountain had little appeal to her. In later years I had suggested teaming up
with friends for the climb. Without her of course.
“And leave me alone at home worrying for you? At your age it is too risky! You never
realise you are not as young anymore”.
Cold water quickly dousing whatever flames of enthusiasm that might
still be simmering within me. The idea
was quickly canned. How could I make her worry for me just so I could pursue my
own selfish ambitions?
But lately my good friend J was keen on climbing the
mountain and had plans to organise a trip for a small group of 5. Do it before we get too old. This is true. And
it gives us a reason to push ourselves further in our physical workouts. Like
doing vertical climbs of 40 storey blocks not once but twice over. Or trekking
around our central reservoir, a 12 km route at around 2 hours.
So Mount Kinabalu was a much anticipated project, a date I
had clearly marked on my calendar and for which I was very much looking forward
to. Back to nature, and the possibility of standing on the peak of the highest
point in the region, with my head above clouds or if the weather is clear, to
see as far as the eye can see.
But I did not see this flu bug coming and how it appears now
to be playing havoc to my next holiday plan. I could see Jenny from a distance
looking satisfied of this unexpected turn in events that would now be scuttling
my plans. But she would also share my disappointment if I have to cancel the trip as
getting even a partial refund will be highly unlikely.
I will need to work harder over the next few days to rid myself of this virus
and get myself back in shape. Even if it is a mountain to climb.
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