Within the first three days of being back, I could not stomach any of the food. I’ll spare the revolting details of what I was feeling, but I spent the whole trip being sick, trying not to be sick, or finding ways to hide the fact that I felt sick.
Going around to meet family and friends with a bag as a precaution was not a good look, and I wasn’t actually able to enjoy anything I was doing. I ended up with a stomach infection, fever and every possible physical rejection of my surroundings. I was also not able to benefit from any medication, as I ended up being prescribed wrong dosages and that made everything worse.
What was meant to be a traditional, making up for lost time kind of holiday, became a month of making sure I didn’t actually deteriorate. Deeper emotional implications aside, the trip was fun and it was exciting visiting places I had been as a toddler but was disheartening not being able to adjust in the same way I was able to before.
It was a memorable trip back, but for all the wrong reasons.
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