#Manolo Book of life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thelastdiamondpiratealchemist · 1 year ago

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Manolo woke up, his head feeling like it would crack in half at any moment. He tried to swallow, but he cringed as the back of his throat burned, and it felt like dozens of needles being jabbed into his mouth. He groaned and reached for the glass of water on his nightstand, but his hands trembled too much to grasp it. His vision blurred, making it difficult to focus on anything in the dimly lit room.

He felt terrible; he sat up and hugged his upper body with his hands as it suddenly felt like he was freezing.

“Am I running a fever?” He mumbled to himself.

He slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to muster the strength to stand up. With each movement, his body protested, sending waves of pain through his limbs. He stumbled towards the bathroom, leaning on the walls for support.

Turning on the light, Manolo winced at the sudden brightness. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and was taken aback by his pale complexion. Beads of sweat lined his forehead, and his eyes looked bloodshot and weary.

He reached for the thermometer, his trembling hands struggling to steady it. Placing it under his tongue, he waited anxiously for the results. The seconds dragged on as he tried to focus on something other than his pounding headache. Finally, the thermometer was ready, and he took it out to read the display. 101.5°F.

Realization flooded over him – he definitely had a fever. Concern washed through his mind as he tried to recall any recent illness or exposure to someone sick.

Manolo heard a knock at the door; it was his father, Carlos .

“Yes, Papa?” Manolo called, trying to clear his voice. He pounded his hand against his chest, and his father opened the door, a frown printed across his face.

“Are you ill, Manolo?” He asked. Manolo quickly shoved the thermometer back into the drawer.

“No, Papa…Sanchezs don’t get *achoo!*…Sick… “ Manolo quietly cursed to himself as another sneeze escaped his lips. His father raised an eyebrow at the sudden interruption and furrowed his brows in concern.

“Manolo, you don’t look well. Are you sure you’re not sick?” Carlos asked, stepping closer to his son and touching his forehead. Manolo flinched at the contact, his skin burning under his father’s touch.

Carlos grabs his son’s lower jaw, and Manolo’s Hazel eyes widen nervously.

“Open your mouth,” Carlos orders; Manolo bites his lower lip as he shakes his head.

"I don’t want to,” Manolo whispered, his voice barely audible due to the pain in his throat. His father’s grip tightened slightly, and his expression became more serious.

“Manolo, I need to see if you have any other symptoms. It’s important for your health,” Carlos insisted firmly. Reluctantly, Manolo opened his mouth, allowing his father to examine the back of his throat.

Carlos’s eyes narrowed as he observed the inflamed, red tissue. He let go of Manolo’s jaw and sighed heavily, a mix of concern and frustration apparent on his face.

“You have a sore throat, Manolo. It could be strep throat or something worse. “I’m calling for a doctor; lie back down. I’ll let you miss your training today.”

Manolo nodded weakly, his body feeling heavier than ever. He slowly returned to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress and pulling the covers to his chin. The room spun around him as he closed his eyes, his body succumbing to the exhaustion and pain.

A short while later, he heard his father’s voice on the phone, speaking urgently to someone on the other end. He could faintly make out words like “fever,” “sore throat,” and “doctor.” Manolo’s heart sank, realizing his condition was more severe than initially thought.

As he lay in bed, waiting for the Doctor to arrive, Manolo’s mind raced with worry. What if it was something more than just strep throat? What if he had caught a contagious and dangerous illness? He couldn’t help but think about his family, wondering if they were at risk too.

Soon enough, the sound of the door opening alerted Manolo to the arrival of the Doctor. Dr. Hernandez, a tall and comforting figure, entered the room with a concerned expression.

“Good morning, Manolo. Your father tells me you’re not feeling well,” Dr. Hernandez said gently as he approached the bed. Manolo nodded, his throat too sore to respond.

Dr. Hernandez began examining Manolo, checking his temperature, listening to his rapid heartbeat, and asking him various questions about his symptoms. After a thorough examination, the Doctor confirmed the initial suspicion.

“You have strep throat, Manolo,” Dr. Hernandez said, calm but serious. “It’s a bacterial infection that can cause severe sore throat, fever, and difficulty swallowing. We’ll start you on antibiotics right away to combat the infection.”

The Doctor reaches into his medical bag, pulling out a small wooden box.

Manolo began to sweat bullets, not from the fever, but from fear, as the Doctor opened the box, revealing a small needle and a small vile of medicine.

“This injection will lower your fever,” Dr. Hernandez explained, seeing Manolo’s anxiety. “It’s just a small prick, and it will help you feel better.”

Manolo’s eyes widened at the sight of the needle, his fear intensifying. He had always been afraid of injections ever since he was a child. The mere thought of it made his heart race and his palms sweat.

“Sanchez isn’t afraid of needles!” Manolo thought, knowing his father would be disappointed in him if he discovered his fear.

Taking a deep breath, Manolo tried to calm himself. He knew that getting the injection was necessary to help him feel better. He closed his eyes, reminding himself that he was solid and capable of facing his fears.

“Manolo, I understand you may be afraid of needles, but this is for your own good. It’s just a quick pinch, and it will help bring down your fever and alleviate your symptoms.” Dr. Hernandez approached him gently, his voice soothing.

Manolo nodded, mustering up his courage.

“I know, Doctor. I trust you.” He stretched out his arm, exposing his pale skin to the Doctor’s careful eyes.

The Doctor prepared the injection and placed a hand on Manolo’s shoulder, offering reassurance. “Take a deep breath and try to relax. It will be over before you know it.”

Manolo closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He felt a slight pinch and a cool sensation as the medicine entered his bloodstream. Surprisingly, the pain was not as unbearable as he had anticipated. He opened his eyes and saw Dr. Hernandez gently removing the needle.

“There, all done,” the Doctor said with a smile. “You did great, Manolo. Just rest now, and the medication will start working soon…Manolo?”

Manolo briefly lost consciousness, his body succumbing to the exhaustion and pain. When he woke again, the room was hazy, and his head felt heavy. He blinked a few times, his vision slowly clearing.

“Manolo, are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with worry. Dr. Hernandez was still by his side, a concerned expression on his face.

“I… I’m okay,” he managed to croak out. Manolo nodded weakly, his throat feeling even more raw than before.

“You gave us quite a scare there, Manolo. Your fever spiked momentarily, but it seems to be stabilizing now. The medication is starting to work.” The Doctor sighed in relief.

Manolo nodded again, feeling a glimmer of hope within him. He knew he had a long road to recovery, but knowing that the medicine was taking effect brought him some comfort.

Dr. Hernandez stayed with Manolo for a bit longer, monitoring his vital signs and answering any questions. He explained the importance of rest and taking the antibiotics as prescribed. He assured Manolo that he would start feeling better soon with proper care.

Manolo closed his eyes as the Doctor left and let exhaustion take over again. He knew that recovery would not come easy, but with the support of his family and medical help, he was determined to fight through it.

The next day, Manolo’s Grandma explained to the neighbors that her grandson wasn’t feeling well and had caught strep throat.

Serena, a childhood friend, stopped by the house; she handed Carlos a basket filled to the brim with canisters of tea, coffee, bananas, hard candies, and a thermos with her older sister’s special chicken noodle soup.

“For Manolo, rumor says he’s sick,” Serena handed Manolo’s father the heavy basket, “This should help him feel better.”

Carlos smiled gratefully at Serena and accepted the basket.

“Thank you, Serena. This is very kind of you and your family,” he said sincerely. “Manolo will appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I hope he gets well soon. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help. My family is here for you.” Serena nodded, her eyes filled with concern.

“We’ll let you know if we need anything. Your support means a lot to us.” Carlos patted her shoulder appreciatively.

Serena left, and Carlos carried the basket into Manolo’s room. He gently placed it on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. Manolo stirred, slowly opening his eyes.

“Dad? What’s all this?” Manolo’s voice was weak but curious.

“Serena brought it for you,” Carlos explained, gesturing to the basket. “Tea, coffee, soup, and some snacks. It’s meant to help you feel better. She’ll make a fine wife someday.”

“Papa!” Manolo blushed, knowing his father was being ‘soft’ towards him because he still wasn’t feeling good.

“I’m just teasing, Manolo. But Serena is a good friend, and her family cares about you. They want to help you get better.” Carlos chuckled.

“Tell Serena I said thank you, Dad. And thank her family, too. It means a lot.” Manolo smiled weakly and reached for the thermos of soup. He took a small sip, the warm broth soothing his sore throat.

“Ah~ that’s good,” Manolo sighed, closing his eyes momentarily.

Carlos watched with relief as Manolo visibly relaxed and enjoyed the soup. Seeing his son take a step towards recovery made him smile.

“I will, son. I’ll make sure to give them our thanks,” Carlos replied, his voice full of warmth. “Take your time with the soup and rest. The Doctor said the medication should start working soon, so focus on improving. Remember, you got more training to do as a future bullfighter.”

Manolo sighed, slowly nodding in agreement as his father left his room. After Carlos closed Manolo’s bedroom door, allowing him privacy, Manolo glanced at his guitar in the corner of his pale green wall.

“Always play from the heart, love Maria,” was written on the guitar’s side.

Manolo reached over and picked up his guitar, cradling it in his arms. Music had always been a source of comfort and inspiration for him, and he knew that it could bring him solace even in this challenging time. He strummed a few chords gently, feeling the vibrations resonate through his body.

Closing his eyes, Manolo allowed the music to take over. He played from the heart, pouring all his emotions into each note. The gentle melody filled the room, weaving through the hazy air. Despite his weakened state, Manolo felt a flicker of energy within him, as if the music was rejuvenating his spirit.

From outside, Serena was walking by. She could hear her old friend playing his beloved guitar; she clicked her tongue slightly before she picked up a small pebble and threw it at the glass panel.

“Man.o.lo!!” She sounded out his name.

Manolo jumped, his fingers slipping on the guitar strings. He quickly turned his head towards the window, a surprised look on his face. He saw Serena standing outside, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Serena? What are you doing?” he called out, a mix of annoyance and amusement in his voice.

“I heard you playing your guitar, and I couldn’t resist interrupting,” Serena giggled. “But seriously, Manolo, you sound amazing even when sick!”

Manolo couldn’t help but laugh, his spirits lifted by Serena’s playful nature. He set his guitar down and went to the window, opening it to talk with her.

“I’m glad you think so! But my playing is probably not as good as usual today,” he admitted, his voice still raspy from his sore throat.

Serena’s playful tone soon changed to a severe style, her voice stern and heavy.

“Get your butt back to bed, Manolo!” She called, narrowing her green eyes. ”You’re still recovering, and you need to rest. No more playing guitar for now, got it?”

Manolo chuckled, touched by Serena’s concern. He appreciated her playful interruption and understood the importance of caring for himself.

“You’re right, Serena. I’ll head back to bed and rest,” he replied, a grateful smile on his face. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“I’m just getting some practice,” Serena joked, placing her hands on her hips.

“What for?”

“When I get married and become a mother, of course! No future husband or child mine will get sicker on my watch!” Serena grinned.

Manolo couldn’t help but laugh at Serena’s playful response. Her dedication and care for him warmed his heart.

“Well, I’m glad I have you looking out for me, future mother Serena,” he teased, his voice lighthearted.

Serena playfully rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Just get some rest, okay? Don’t worry about anything else right now. Let your body heal,” she said, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Manolo nodded, appreciating her words of wisdom.

“You’re right. Rest is the priority. I’ll save my guitar playing for when I’m better,” he agreed.

Serena nodded, satisfied with his response.

“Good. And remember, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know. Your support means a lot to us, too,” she said softly.

“Thank you, Serena. Your friendship and kindness mean the world to me,” he replied.

“Okay, I love you, Manolo!” Serena accidentally admitted, her face turning bright red.

“Wh-What was that?!” Manolo misunderstood what Serena said; he watched Serena cover her mouth.

“Nothing! Feel better soon, see ya later, Manny!” Serena corrected herself before running off down the street to the market.

Manolo stood at the window, a smile spreading across his face. He watched as Serena hurried away, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. Despite the misunderstanding, Manolo couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in his chest; he closed the window and returned to bed, thoughts of Serena filled his mind.

Manolo quickly got back into bed before Carlos caught him out of bed. He could hear him walking up the stairs, and by the time his father was at the door jiggling the door handle, Manolo pretended to be asleep.

Carlos entered the room, unaware that Manolo was feigning sleep. He sighed heavily, his fatherly concern evident as he spoke softly.

“Manolo, I hope you’re resting. I heard the guitar earlier, and I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself,” Carlos said, slightly annoyed.

Manolo resisted the urge to laugh, knowing he had fooled his father. He pretended to be asleep, hoping Carlos would believe he was too sick to respond.

Manolo resisted the urge to sit up and reassure his father that he understood. Instead, he stayed still, hoping that Carlos would leave him alone and let him rest. He could hear his father’s footsteps growing faint as he walked out of the room, likely convinced that Manolo was fast asleep.

The sound of Carlos’s footsteps faded away; Manolo finally allowed himself to relax. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, grateful for Serena’s playful interruption and genuine concern. At that moment, as he lay in bed, thoughts of Serena and her affectionate slip of the tongue filled his mind, bringing him comfort and a sense of joy amidst his illness.

Serena’s words echoed in his head as he began to fall asleep.

“I love you, Manolo!”

The future musician’s pale face blushed brightly…He had to misunderstand her, right?

Eventually, Manolo fell asleep, his breathing steady and his body finally at rest. As his dreams carried him away, the memory of Serena’s playful interruption and her words of love remained, filling his heart with hope and anticipation for the future. He couldn’t wait to see what lay ahead for their friendship and perhaps something more.

The End.

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