a five-day course of (de)reality.

I have been sick since Wednesday, on and off. I felt unwell Tuesday night but not the same kind of unwell as my mother. I’ve had fevers on and off, and no cough, but the strangest nights. I sleep three hours, wake up in terror, try to sleep a few more… even if I tire myself out completely, there’s little chance of peace.

I have had pain on my right side: in the back, along the sides, and memorably nearish my groin (but so far from where one expects to find ureters!). In the vicinity. I am afraid that this is a UTI, especially one that reaches all the way into my kidney; I do not want a kidney infection. I have no doctor. I cannot pay for tests. You’ve never seen anyone pray for a bunch of really tiny kidney stones before. Which this feels like. Sometimes it’s a bit like pissing grit.

Urine no cloudier than usual, a plain light yellow colour. A couple of bubbles. Low, low appetite, and I wouldn’t be surprised if half my trouble was low blood sugar.

— a moment of derealization last night: is this real? It is but it shouldn’t be. I feel a step removed. — they say it’s a result of prolonged anxiety and stress. Maybe my mind, too, has finally Had It Up To Here. God, Buddha, Allah, whoever, let the Medicaid come through so I can promptly check myself into the nearest fixer-upper facility. “Do what you will, so long as I don’t puke,” I will say. “If the insurance balks at paying for the anti-emetics, give me the damned bill. Then send me a hypnotist so I never fear puking again.”

Something out of a really bad film. Something that is too real to be unreal. Jessica, Jessica, I should have let you admit me and to hell with the bills; I’ve a case pending; surely being indigent save for $5000 means I qualify for very extended payment programs anyway? Maybe I should call you, or maybe I should wait for the Advil to kick in and see how my belly likes another bowl of porridge.

Whatever I should feel, I shouldn’t feel like “Where There Is No Doctor” was written for my generation and my cohort. It’s all available. It’s all out of reach. Effectively I’m out in the bush. If I reach, I lose it all.


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