September 4th, 2009: Barely being able to hold in what NEEDS to be steadily held…I run to the toilet, fumbling with the seat trying to wipe someone else’s past residuals. Unscrewing the top of the jar, I hold it with one hand that is wrapped around a small plastic bag, lining it up as helicopter pilot would lineup a container of water to drop in a specified location to douse a fire - or in my case…to fill up a cup. Missing the cup could be catastrophic…depending on how far off that I might be. Filling it up as if it was from a faucet…I skillfully top of the jar before topping off the toilet.
Proud of my accomplishments, I headed down stairs to get directions to the lab. Standing there as the travel agent is pulling out a map of Quito to show me where I need to go…I noticed an extremely strong odor, discovering that the jar is failing to do it’s job as it rested deep inside my shoulder bag. Does she now know why I need to visit the lab, or does she think that I rudely seeped out a big one without waiting to leave her office?
Getting my results back later in the day, I discovered that my body was rudely attacked by a bacterial infection and a parasite that is only found deep in the jungle – so I did end up with an unexpected souvenir. After an 8 day battle, a visit to the doctors and some hired help from the pharmaceutical empire, I was able to exit my sleeping bag and leave the fortress with more of an appreciation of what a good day is. Today, my constantly changing definition of a good day does not have to involve seeing whales, monkeys or by performing some adrenaline filled activity…it is a day without any new medical complications, medical challenges and by not having an umbilical cord to a porcelain toilet – now this…is a good day.
No comments:
Post a Comment