One week of illness. The body’s reaction to medication I had mistaken for an antihistamine. Eczema, perhaps psiriosis covered thighs made walking painful. The rubbing caused the affliction to spread, my thighs to bleed. My face. Back. Neck. Hands. Few places were spared.
Then a fever of some genus arrived.
Nineteen hours of sleep one night. A forgotten amount the next. And the next.
Small pieces of verbal exchange during the week. Buying calamine and antihistamines early in the week. Answering my phone to inform someone I wasn’t available. My nightly walk to the lobby to purchase that which I’ve been sustaining myself on since I ran out of all but rice five days ago – cookies, ice cream and milk. A handful of words a day.
One full conversation. A call from Canada last evening.
Internet. No television. No visitors. Sleeping until mid or late afternoon.
This neighbourhood retires early. The sun begins to set at six.
Seven days. One room.
No loneliness. No grasping. An enclave.
Stepping forth into public life this afternoon, my senses are awakened. Little internal dialogue.
Unexpected beauty in sickness. In forced solitude.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Read the next memoir, Notes From The Road – On The Bus, here.
that was friggin’ beautiful
thanks davie!
Dem Ice cream and cookies will keep ya sick longer cuz germs feed on sugar. Coloidal silver FTW . Have it where ever you travel, No virus can survive silver NO VIRUS. That includes aids, ebola, etc Doctors wont tell ya, most of em anyway cuz they arent taught that and those in control that know wont tell any1 cuz if people cure themselves, the Big Pharma industry loses money.