Amber sunlight dabbed through the curtains of my room and pricked my eyes, making me groggy. It seemed to coerce me out of my cosy bed. I staggered to the bathroom. My head was throbbing in pain. A temperature was building up in my temples. My vision was blurry and I could feel a foreboding nausea. "I think I need to visit the doctor," I mumbled.
I informed my parents and Dad contacted my teacher regarding my condition. Together with Mum, I faltered feebly to the clinic in the vicinity of my flat. Mum helped me to register with the clinic assistant at the counter. Rows of bottled medicine and receptacles of various pills were lined up on the shelves. The sight of them sent a shiver down my spine.
The television which hung on the wall was humming at an almost inaudible volume. None of the ashen-faced patients paid any attention to it. Bouts of coughs and sneezes, however, could be heard. Everyone's focus was on the queue number on the flashing digital number plate.
"173" was illuminated in neon red on the black display box above the door to the consultation room. I was relieved that it was finally my turn. I knocked cordially on the doctor's door before entering with Mum.
With a seraphic smile, the amiable general practitioner, Dr Tan, greeted us. She took my body temperature and examined my chest with a stethoscope. "You have just caught a cold. You will be fine with some rest," she reassured me with a tap on my shoulder.
When we got home, Mum cooked some porridge for me. I had my lunch and consumed the medication. Then, I dozed off and slept as soundly as a newborn infant till 7 o'clock in the evening.
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