The day will come, the sun will rise, and we’ll be fine

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The last bit of my time in the mountains was considerably better than the first bit. Wednesday, my dad and grandmother and I headed eastward in my car (which was a trooper) to scale the mountain and turn around in Cherokee, N.C. The weather was heavy and wet and temperamental, but we braved it anyway. The dampness saturated the colors, but when the fog set in, it was hard to see anything through a lens or a set of eyeballs.

It was quite beautiful, and a nice way to undo some of the damage that had been done earlier in the week. (Even though all that shit is going to need to be worked through eventually. And sooner rather than later, if I have anything to do with it.)

The next morning, Grandmaw and I headed west. A fateful stop at the Dickson I-40 Arby’s and several hours later, just after I had gotten to my apartment and started hauling bags inside, I got sicker than I have been in years and years. For roughly nine hours, my body rejected everything that had ever been put into it. With violence. I was hot then cold, fine then nauseated, up and down, back and forth, moaning, crying, shedding layers of clothes, hugging the trash can, convulsing, dehydrated, unable to keep my head up, unable to walk, fully feeling the bite of the humiliation of living alone and wondering if you’re going to die there near your toilet. At 4 a.m. I laid awake on my bed, unable to get comfortable, just listening to the wind roaring outside and feeling my whole building sway and creak from the pressure. Turmoil, inside and out.

Gah. Fuck that.

But I’m not dead. Yet. I dragged myself to work yesterday and probably freaked everyone out with my pallor and bottle of Gatorade with a straw in it. And my inability to move with a speed that could be described as anything faster than “sludge-like.” My bones hurt, I can’t turn my neck, my voice is raspy, and worst of all, I can’t stop complaining about everything.

I haven’t had anything to eat since roughly 3 p.m. Thursday (save three crackers) and, although I’m a bit paranoid about eating anything just yet, I am about to take the plunge and eat what will probably be either the most delicious or most disgusting meal I’ve ever had.

4 thoughts on “The day will come, the sun will rise, and we’ll be fine

  1. Yikes. Hope you feel better. If you’re still having trouble keeping food down, try some yogurt; it’s got bacterial culture in it that will get your digestive system working again. (Personally, I dislike yogurt so much that I’d rather be sick than eat it.)

    By the way, I went to summer camp near Cherokee, NC in 1978, when I was six; I got my first-ever camera for that trip.

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