let lemons be angry

I've been sick, getting up from bed just to collapse on the sofa with my bowling ball head. I finally agreed to see the doctor I've been avoiding. Avoiding because on the last occasion I found him face flushed, top buttons undone, sitting lankily and astrew on his seat. He must have been off some kind of medication that day. Last night, however, he was back to his concerned, gentle self, with all buttons done up. The bad news was I was allergic to the antibiotics prescribed, and after dinner I looked like this:

|
|
|
|
|

Not quite. But my eyes swelled up into puffs. My dad has been a heroic nurse, as my mum is out of the country. Lunch with him is a continuous stream of caring chatter, like this:

"Ah, that's right, get up. Ah, jump onto your chair, like the cats, two steps! You want to go out? No? Ah I see it now, your eyes still droop. Is that your normal eye? No? Not your normal eye ah. So bad, I'll take you to see him now, come. Don't want? Instant relief! Ok just rest. Chicken? Let me show you something fantastic. This! Wasabi flavour! Try it! It's marvellous! You can also have Mummy's cherries, and cod liver oil, and this vitamin C, but first you have to eat. But the food is not here. Ah there is bee hoon! And chicken! I can just steam it up! Wow you can hear it sizzle! Looks beautiful! MM the taste is marvellous! Put this chilli sauce! Mummy doesn't like this! You want sesame oil? I can make fish fillets with batter? We also have uh, lamb chops and rib eye! The taste! The TASTE! You know, I wish right now we had a close circuit tv of Mummy. She is probably shivering in the cold, and then she will speak. Chinese, Cantonese, wow, we are going places. Our family will be very busy in the next few years. Ok I'm going out to buy a bike!"