Sick: A Memoir

 Today I had a meeting in Blaine at this one guys apartment. I have been going to this apartment for years in the summer. As I parked and we walked in the apartment through the sliding glass door window I remembered the same meeting five years ago. The weather was warm and humid, like today, but the AC wasn't on and cool air was coming in through the patio door. As I sat in my chair looking at the rain falling and the curtain blowing in the wind I realized I was sick. I had cellulitis in my right shin. My body temperature went from hot to cold to hot to cold. I had a funny rash on my leg. Actually I was in the beginning stages of sepsis. After the meeting I went back to work, gathered my stuff, and went to urgent care. Urgent care sent me to the emergency room. I sat on my cot in the emergency room and put pillows under my right leg. I was hoping to get an IV of antibiotics quicker than later. That was a tough day. My right shin still has some neuropathy but the area that feels numb gets a little smaller every year as the nerves grow back through the injured muscle. I try not to dwell on what is wrong with me but on what is right with me. Ironically today I finished listening to Porochista Khakpour's memoir about being sick with Lyme's disease. Like a car tire spinning on ice Porochista goes on and on and on and on about her symptoms. She can't sleep. She really can't sleep. She lost weight. She lost more weight. I get it. Lyme's disease is real. I have friends and relatives who have Lyme's disease or who have had Lyme's disease. Unlike Porochista, their symptoms do not get worse after the Paris riots. Their illness is not brought on by political strife. To give her some credit, she also had a head injury from a car accident but honestly, I am glad to be done with this book.