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Wednesday, May 1, 2019

May 1, 2019

I woke up at 4 o'clock this morning fairly certain that I was about to die. Short of breath, fast seeming heartrate, intensely hot neck and head, hot calves too, a thickness in my throat. I got up and tottered about, feeling strangely confused--like the worst of MS confusion. Tried to work the fan with the phone, tried to check the phone with the fan controller. Headed back to the bathroom and fell down on the way, thanks to the classic MS knee buckle. 

And I thought: 

I'm not scared of dying
and I don't really care, 
If it's peace you find in dying, 
well then, let that time be near.

And truly, I'm not scared of dying. I just wish one could do it without having to go through the prefatory suffering. 

Blessed is the man who dies suddenly, who dies in peace, who simply goes to sleep and does not wake up.  

I had seen the doctor yesterday and, presuming this infection is in the sinuses, she had prescribed a steroid nose spray along with the usual allergy pill and a new antibiotic. Clearly, this was not working out well. 

Having cleared my mind to some extent after some time, I decided to take a swim and lie in the sun, entertaining the conceit that somehow the vitamin D from the searing tropical rays would solve the whole problem. It didn't. Although it did make me very much hotter than I already was. 

Came back to my room and ate a plate of spaghetti, which Louis had prepared for me the other day, and then felt nauseous and like the spaghetti was stuck halfway down my throat. I laid down and fell asleep for a time. Not sure what I did after waking up, but at some point, I decided that a trip to the beach would cure me. Just get that good old ocean air, you know. Do the things I used to do, enjoy the things I used to enjoy. 

So, through a Herculean effort, I forced myself to get dressed, got on the motorbike, and headed down to Mertasari Beach. There, I took off my sandals, walked into the shallow surf for a while, walked back up to the oceanfront path, fell down again, and stopped in to my favorite old beach warung for a Bali coffee and a plate of fruit. Then I decided I had better go home. 

And I haven't died. Yet. 

Not looking forward to the night, which is now, suddenly, upon me. Not looking forward to tomorrow. No longer entertaining February's innocent expectation that there would be some simple solution to a seemingly simple problem. Not looking forward to throwing more money at non-solutions. 

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