acid wash

acid washed

I’ve been sick for… well, all told about a month. I made a trip to PA to see my long time Lover. A combination of nervousness before the trip and one fateful bike ride on a freakishly cool late spring night with a moon too beautiful not to lift up my head and gaze left me vulnerable to the perils of airports and flying. I generally don’t believe in constantly washing my hands– a few years ago I decided to try letting my body cope with the natural bacteria it comes into contact with to improve my immune response, and combined with other tactics it has seemed to work rather well. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure that with the stress of the whole ordeal of flying– waking up early, worrying about the moment of truth when I would opt out of the backscatter machine if shunted to one (which I was on the way there, and I did), walking and walking, and being dehydrated– my body couldn’t quite handle the encounter with an international host of bogies. I was okay for most of the time I spent there, sort of teetering on the edge of being seriously sick. I gargled with salt water and drank echinacea tea and got lots of sleep (I wasn’t the only one feeling under the weather) and generally I was just okay enough to enjoy my time there. It was on the trip back that the critical hit came.

I didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before leaving, we were too busy having fun and got back from a day of exploring later than we probably would have planned, if we planned that sort of thing. This time I opted for somewhat dehydration on the plane to avoid the discomfort of having to get up mid-flight and go to the bathroom (I always get a window seat). Arriving at the airport for my long layover, I had it all planned, I had almost 3 hours to wander leisurely around and rest and refuel before even attempting to find my gate. As I stepped out of the restroom, ready to relax and hydrate myself, I hear my name on the loud speaker. I couldn’t hear anything except my name and ‘please see your airline for assistance’. Well. I’m the kind of person who handles stress by getting it out of the way. Even with three hours ahead of me there was no way I was going to be able to rest and relax without knowing why I needed to speak to my airline. In this frenzied state I found navigating an airport more difficult than ever before, and managed to misunderstand the signs and walk clear to the other side of the airport before finally asking someone for help and then walking more than half of the way back that I had come. I finally get to my gate, and of course, no one is there because my flight is still not for over 2 hours. After waiting, obviously impatiently, for a while I go to one of the other gates of the same airline. They manage to help me, after informing me of the obvious with no small amount of incredulous attitude, and give me a message that my sister’s car is having trouble and I’ll have to take the bus or a taxi home. This is actually really not a big deal, but it means I need to find a way to get access to the bus schedules and find out where the hell I need to go to wait for the right bus. I managed to eventually find myself a pay phone, and after a fierce and repetitive struggle with dimes I eventually give in and give them my damned quarters, call my sister and get the needed info. Finally, about an hour after having arrived, already dehydrated and exhausted, it was time to find some repast. I wanted soup. This wasn’t exactly easy, but I did in time find some. I managed to get myself fairly well comfortable and the rest of the trip home was fairly uneventful, but I didn’t wash my hands at any time and I’m fairly sure that I picked up something nasty that I had no resistance left to combat. I worked the next day, and woke up the next morning feeling utterly and completely awful. Throat painful and swollen. I went through a dance of rest, get better, work, get worse for about a week and then realized I had something more serious going on. I used a little light to look at my tonsils, oh poor things, so swollen and covered with red and white patterns. I nearly went to a clinic, prepared to quaff antibiotics if instructed, but as soon as I started focusing on the infection on my throat, remembering to gargle salt water, and not worrying about trying to get back to work asap, it started getting better. I have opted to allow myself to heal naturally, with the aid of salt water, echincea and other herbal remedies, and sleep, rather than give someone money to prescribe me medicine that will ransack my internal ecosystem and in all likelihood prolong the time I feel sick, even if it kills the infection in my throat along with all the other happy bacteria. It’s taking it’s sweet time but I’m quite better now, just waiting for my throat to heal so I can get back to life.

Oh, life. Wonderful life.

here are a couple more photos that I edited last night:

I updated my deviantart account after about 4 years. I’m almost done editing a few years worth of photos to post a bunch of nature/city photography, and hopefully putting more stuff here in a more organized manner. But then, there’s life to live, so who knows what will happen.

This entry was posted in how I feel about my life, journal, photos. Bookmark the permalink.


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