I’ve jumped out of a plane from 15,000 feet, I’ve run from the police and hid, face first in poison ivy, I’ve been literally, hounded down the streets of Phuket and mouth kissed by a Thai prostitute, I’ve run on mountaintop, on crumbling steps with death on either side with a head full of san pedro cactus, I’ve had ancient medicines delivered to me by a shaman and drank potions from an insanely passionate alchemist. I’ve had frog venom burned into my bloodstream…
…and it’s food that’s going to bring me down!? FOOD!?!!?! HOW DARE YOU!
I knew the food was a bad idea, in fact, I said so out loud before I decided to go for it. But I rolled the roulette dice anyway, and unfortunately I lost.
So here I loathe, face down in my bed in a self appointed illness exile from the world. I knew something wasn’t right the morning after. My body felt slow, strained and lethargic. It wasn’t the fact that I was dancing in the streets at around 1 in the morning, with a lovely companion and a marching band that was still going strong. No, this was something else.
By 2pm I was in it. My body poured sweat but I was shivering cold. My natural equilibrium was being offset and whatever was doing it was having a hell of a time messing everything up. Like some sort of belligerent drunk, running rampant around the bar, flipping tables, breaking glasses, yelling obscenities. Cept this wasn’t a bar, THIS IS MY BODY! THIS IS WHERE I LIVE, YA JERK!
I face planted into bed and didn’t move until the sun went down. Staring out through my delirium, I managed to grasp at some logic and break down my situation. “Food poisoning should typically burn itself out of my system in 48ish hours. I’m gonna be dehydrated and hungry. I’m gonna need fruit and juice. I have neither…”
I felt terrible, but it was only going to get worse. I needed those things; I needed to, ugh, I needed to go to town. The 15-minute walk seemed daunting enough, the physical exertion even more so…
…but I managed to sever the mental and physical aspects of my being again, as learned through the sapo ceremony, and mechanically went through the motions until I found myself amongst the familiar buildings of my destination.
“Can’t you see how sick I am? Wanna tone it down a bit? Geez” I thought to the town, which was in full festival mode. Fireworks overhead, blaring music coming out of EVERYWHERE, the smell of alcohol in the crowd and red meat being cooked on the corners…. it was a circus for my senses, I’m surprised I didn’t puke right there. (That comes later)
Fruit and juice for the next 2-3 days acquired, time to wrangle up an intoxicated tuktuk driver and get home.
With the key in the lock, I let my concentration go, and almost immediately the full body retching started. “Yep, we’re in it now” Was the last thing I thought before I crawled into bed.
And that’s where I’ve been for the last couple days. Face down in a sickness coma. Haven’t moved. I did open a window, and that was quite a feat. I think it only took me 6 hours.
There was a moment where I opened my eyes, after who knows how long, and kind of glanced at my weakened body in the fetal position. How helpless, yet incredibly familiar. How? Ah yes, I was taken back, years ago to my time in Chiang Mai. However, it wasn’t me overwhelmed by food poisoning, it was my brother. The similarities of our distress were quite numerous, right down to the clothing. The only difference was, my delirium never reached the state of “ughughmumblemumble sleep with george washington’s wife mumble”. Which, I suppose is a good thing.
But delirium aside, the ratio of things coming out of me, to the ratio of things that were in me, was completely and utterly baffling. Any mathematician would have killed himself trying to make sense of it. I myself, am at a loss, but rather impressed in a way.
So here I am, still in bed. About ten pounds lighter. Not quite skirting mortal peril anymore, but I do still feel like someone is sadistically ringing out my internal organs every few minutes. I wished it’d stop, cause there’s giggling outside and I’d like to join in.