I don't think of myself as being a vindictive man, I am quick to anger, quick to forgive and for the most part quick to forget. Thus I do not think of myself as having many enemies, though I may have more than I think. Nevertheless I work in an office environment and personality clashes are bound to occur usually hidden beneath a thin veneer of good manners. Someone might have intercepted a text conversation I had with a colleague last week and might have overhead me tell him that I would not wish this walking pneumonia even on So-and-So. Must be pretty terrible then came the reply as my friend knows my long standing antipathy for So-and-So, and normally I would not want to withhold the seven plagues of Egypt from afflicting that ill mannered character. As it is I am starting my second round of antibiotics in an effort to shake this fever and my wife continues to function at half speed with her share of this bug and the likelihood of pleurisy for added fun and amusement. For back up I'm sucking down this crap like it was mother's milk, and my chest still aches.
I have managed to get back to work for a couple of half shifts in an effort to help out my severely short staffed colleagues. They are skittish because they fear infection but are grateful for my presence to relieve the endless rounds of overtime everyone has been sucking up. Overtime is great but this time of year vacations eat into our supply of available staff and myself and one other getting sick have made things rather tense.
I confess I am quite jealous of JW who was also coughing a bit but who is now repaired. Why him and not me? I have hardly ridden a motorcycle in a month, what with time spent with my wife and now being too ill to contemplate riding...They know something's wrong when I show up to work in the car. JW decided he knew what I needed and went and got it from Sandy's, the 24 hour Cuban Cafe up the street from the police station. Chicken soup he said, chicken soup it was. The odd thing about this fever is that it hasn't dulled my appetite one bit and indeed I am astonished how hungry I feel half the time. The other half of the time I am too dull to even think of eating or concentrating on any one thing.
I find myself wondering about this illness more than I normally might. Its effects have been severe and prolonged even though I caught it very early and swiftly and started treating it right away. Normally I enjoy rude good health and I am not much given to taking pills so I have no resistance to medication or any adaptability to antibiotics or anything like that. Yet this strain is refusing to bow down to the power of our formerly invincible medications that have been abused, over prescribed and fed even to the animals we eat, used to bulk them up unnaturally. Now we are told we find ourselves unable to fight disease as we were once able to. I find this slow process of recovery rather intimidating and worrying.
Cheyenne has continued to get her walks with me tottering out behind her trying to get a small share of fresh air once a day before retreating to my couch or my bed, books being too complicated to read, thoughts drifting as aimlessly through my mind as the clouds overhead. I count myself lucky she is elderly and patient and easily satisfied these days in the heat of August in the Florida Keys. With this illness come the nightmares that accompany the depressed mind of a sick person. My dreams have been stored in my memory more vividly than usual, technicolor movies of unusual complexity filled with dark themes of decay and abandonment. My boss had a death in her family, a former colleague died of persistent cancer last week and a former girlfriend got diagnosed with a brain tumor. She is one of those women with whom I had a tumultuous relationship decades ago but with whom I have stayed friends and who now, for a while thought she might be dying so she invited my wife and I for a last visit. Death has apparently been postponed or hopefully diagnosed prematurely so the trip to British Columbia is off for now. It is all part of the process of aging, we know this yet the process comes as a surprise.
So I extend my apologies for the silence on this page and thanks to Gary for filling in. I further apologize for the unnaturally gloomy tone of this start to the week, but my disposition has been somewhat inhibited by my lack of access to the outdoors, to summer swimming, to riding my motorcycle to...you name it pretty much everything that makes Keys summer living cheerful compensation for the crowds of winter and the year round high cost of living. At this point I wonder if I shall ever get back on my feet - well yes I will of course but Good Lord, sooner please rather than later! Of course if you need to seek redress for some slight, real or imagined, my defenses are down and this would be an excellent time! I can only hope I will soon be back on an even and blogging and photography will resume as normal.