True to the century-old tradition of microbial December, I am forced to starmene the whole day in bed, fitted with down-and-of course hot water bottle. My mother's firm belief is that to bring down a fever of 39 (pauraa!!) To a state very limits of decency (ie: to make sure of not having to be hospitalized with a fever from his horse), it is necessary a healthy sweat. Here I am, therefore, to say the least admitted to temperatures equatorial justified as pure therapeutic purposes.
The experience of nursing my mother (not due to the fact that it has never exercised this profession, to the effect that he had to consolidate in spite of what some familiarity with the health problems that plague me since microbes have decided to create the aforementioned age-old tradition of microbial December, finding in my body strong breeding ground for their raids ).... uh, I said: the experience of nursing my mother at the end it was founded. In fact, in just one night (unfortunately the one on Saturday: even microbes must have been influenced by John Travolta), the fever dropped altogether. Counterparty: the temperature of my body is 36.5 degrees, or have the pressure under the feet (that is, if I try to get out of bed there is a real possibility of fainting), also when I woke up the shirt of my pajamas looked back from a crossing Nile (insignificant effects of the theory of sound sweaty ...).
Now I hope that the microbes are fun enough to use my body as their disco personal because now you have done with me, okay?? Solemnly declare broken the centuries-old tradition of microbial December, at the cost of having to become familiar with the rites voodoo or the like.
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