Elara felt a familiar tickle, a prelude to the *cough* that was already making her *sore throat* ache. Her head throbbed; a dull *headache* had set in, and her stomach felt queasy – a definite *stomachache*. Checking her forehead, she knew the *temperature* was rising. This was more than just a common *cold*; it felt like the dreaded *flu*.
Last year, she'd had a nasty *infection* after a small *wound* on her arm. It needed an *injection* and a course of *antibiotic* pills, plus a fresh *bandage* every day. Remembering that, she decided to visit the *pharmacy*. Perhaps a good *painkiller* would help with the aches.
At the counter, she mentioned her symptoms. The pharmacist frowned. "Have you had your annual *vaccination*? The new *vaccine* helps prevent this strain." Elara suddenly remembered her *allergy* to a certain ingredient and hadn't gotten it. The pharmacist updated her *medical record*, noting the oversight. “Let’s hope this isn’t too serious,” he said, handing her medicine for the *fever* and *runny nose*. A shiver, not from the cold, ran down her spine. She truly hoped it was just a bad cold.
