I've been absent for the last few days mostly because of the return of the throat plague, and there's really nothing more that would be interesting to say about the throat plague, especially when there seems no solution in sight. So, in short, I haven't been doing much except lying down having the throat plague. I have no plan for a next step. The doctor at Kasih Ibu wants to do a CT scan of the head, but that doesn't really sound promising to me. Sounds like something that could lead to endless explorations and doctor bills. So I've decided to heal myself instead by swimming and then baking out the disease in the pool chair under the wearing tropical sun. So far the results have been a combination of general wetness and hotness which have made no impression on the throat plague.
Louis continues to want me to move, as if changing my location alone will bring about a miraculous cure. In fact, she is looking at a place this morning nearby where I'm at now. But it doesn't have a pool, so I could not pursue my ineffective throat cure there. On Wednesday, she took me to see an absolutely horrible little place in Denpasar--so depressing, really, that it defies description.
Other than that, my activities have been limited just to a couple of exhausting trips to the grocery store in order to keep something to eat in the refrigerator. And sleeping.
In a letter my son left behind, he spoke of just wanting to be well, of just longing for the daily horror of being constantly ill to end.
I know just how he felt.
Louis continues to want me to move, as if changing my location alone will bring about a miraculous cure. In fact, she is looking at a place this morning nearby where I'm at now. But it doesn't have a pool, so I could not pursue my ineffective throat cure there. On Wednesday, she took me to see an absolutely horrible little place in Denpasar--so depressing, really, that it defies description.
Other than that, my activities have been limited just to a couple of exhausting trips to the grocery store in order to keep something to eat in the refrigerator. And sleeping.
In a letter my son left behind, he spoke of just wanting to be well, of just longing for the daily horror of being constantly ill to end.
I know just how he felt.
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