Steampunk

The pain has been around since the middle of the night. 

Throat feels raw, first scratchy, now a bit more intense.

We had an important music performance this morning. Parents on campus, families everywhere, the type of thing that you can just can’t miss.

Fortunately, finished by morning recess.  

But the pain was not. 

I sneak down to the nurse, who always welcomes me with empathy and care. She takes my temperature, then looks at my throat. She gives me some ibuprofen and strepsils.

And recommends that I rest. 

I shoot off a couple of messages to my team, and my supervisor. 

Throat has gotten progressively worse. I’m going home to rest

My co-teacher and ‘work sister’, compassionate soul that she is, insists on sending me home 

We will be fine 

She says

And I know she’s telling the truth. 

I’m grateful to be among colleagues who care and look out for each other. Nurse’s orders are to go get some spicy pho with greens, plenty of garlic, and steamy hot broth.

One of the many amazing parts of living here is that there are literally hundreds of shops with a meal ticket designed just for a sore throat 

The steam rises off the bowl as I ladle a spoonful of red, spicy sauce and a healthy portion of pickled garlic slices.

I sip the broth

grateful for this easy, ready cure

for what ails.

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