I woke before dawn with fever and nausea, my body reminding me that it needed care.
Even so, I prepared breakfast and stepped into the morning, carrying both exhaustion and determination.
At work, kind voices noticed my hoarse voice and encouraged me to see a doctor.
Soon I found myself at the polyclinic, answering questions and undergoing tests while quietly hoping for answers.
The diagnosis came: an infection my body was fighting.
Two days of rest were prescribed — a reminder that healing is also a form of strength.
Some moments today were heavy, but there were also small kindnesses:
a colleague’s concern, a father’s message about staying strong, and prayers from a friend.
Tonight, I rest.
Not as someone defeated by illness, but as someone learning to listen to her body and allow herself to heal.
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