Chapter 2: Misery's Friend

I take pride in never having had a fever. (wowza grammar!) 
Correction: I TOOK pride in never having had a fever. 
It's all over now. Enter madame Feverosa in all of her wham glam no-thank you ma'am. 
Boy is she a draaaag. A dud. A doorknob. A determined attention seeker. I'm no psychologist, but methink she has some kind of a personality disorder. One that starts with 'histrionic' and continues with 'personality' and ends with 'disorder.' Solely because madame Feverosa makes me hysterical. Sure, I'm too tired to seem hysterical, but inside? Inside I am upside-down, body fighting to not be completely swept away by her sheer power. The cough is unbearable and I realize it is a cry for help or a plea for madame Feverosa to find another victim for her scandalous ways. A pathetic plea that goes nowhere. She is dedicated to her will and her will at the moment is to flush me over and turn me into a couch potato. Correction: BED potato. I am attached to the bed as if I was strapped to it. Hours go by. It's daylight out there, but my bed is my straight jacket and I won't leave its side. It's a symbiotic relation because that's how madame Feverosa wants it to be. And in her hysterical way she always gets what she wants. Our first encounter is epic, though thankfully - brief. She winks at me on her way out and announces: 'you'll never forget about me.' And I never will.