I used to get tonsillitis every month without fail when I was a little girl. You know what this meant... Yup, I was spoiled rotten during my childhood-- if that is at all possible!
My mother is one of these mothers, that have enormous hearts. When I fell sick, she would sit next to me, rub her hands against my forehead and alternate between singing and reading Quran. She would then make me potato soup. And demand all four siblings of mine, to be my personal slaves, for the entire duration of my sickness. Sweet life I'm telling you! (no wonder I got sick all the time.) I still keep my tonsils by the way. The doctor didn't see a reason to remove something that is perfectly functionable just because my mother thought it to be a good idea (around that time, the trend was to rid oneself as soon as one could of their tonsils, for they're but a nuisance) "God put it there for a reason, so let's keep it there, until God gives us a reason to remove it"... Thank you Doctor wise-man-you, sorry I don't remember your name.
I am remembering this because, a couple of days back I felt horrible. I had achy bones all over, and could hardly lift my self from laying flat on the floor. I had mastitis. I was 95% sure. So I checked my temperature and sure enough I had a fever. It was late, so I had to wait till morning to get checked. My husband gave me everything one needs in a situation like mine. He gave me a hot wash cloth to release my milk clot, pain killers, food, and lots of fluids. And then he went to sleep... WHAT?
bbb... but... I need sympathy! I want him to rub his hands against my forehead and alternate between singing and reading me Quran. I want potato soup. I want... I want my mommy.
The next morning I woke up sore, and bitter. I got some sympathy from declaring to my facebook friends about my state. (I also learned that you can suck out the infection by placing cabbage leaves on the infected side. must. buy. cabbage!) But it wasn't enough. So I called my doctor who prescribed antibiotics (heart) over the phone for me. and a couple of pills later, I was as good as new. Well, almost, I called my mama and she sang and read Quran to me over the phone.