Catharsis?
Yesterday, I felt mostly ok about the shooting in the morning but my
(anger? indignation?) grew throughout the day and by late evening I
was upset at what I perceived as a failure to deal with it
appropriately by the rest of the hotel guests and staff. I realize
that "normal" here is normal viewed through a kaleidoscope. It's
something like actual normal, but sometimes the colors are wrong, the
image is upside down, or shattered into a hundred pieces. But the
"boys will be boys" and "don't ask, don't tell" (how you're feeling)
attitude is, in my opinion, damaging to everyone here.
Late last night, I finally had a good conversation about this. Nick,
Mary and I sat around and talked about our fears, our assessments of
how people are dealing with this, etc. It was fruitful and beneficial
for all involved, but by the time we finished talking at 10p, I felt
like I'd been punched hard in the gut. It wasn't the emotional gravity
of the situation; I knew I'd be sick again that night.
An hour later I woke up and vomited all over the marble courtyard
outside my room. The theme continued and by morning I still couldn't
even keep water down and my body was aching from the efforts of the
night. Food, then water, then bilirubin and spit.
I was supposed to take Nick, Josh, and Mary to a huge Russian tank
graveyard I spotted off the road to the Panjshir, but come time to go,
I was still in bed. Nick came by and, seeing my sorry state, offered
an anti-emetic. I took one and now, an hour and a half later, I'm
doing marginally better.
In the mean time, I crawled out of bed and ran cold water over my arms
and face. If I couldn't drink it, I at least wanted to feel it --
wanted to feel something other than hot and run down.
I started listening to my MP3 player and for whatever reason found
myself in a hyperemotional state. Seemingly every song would remind me
of someone and I'd sniff and my eyes would well up with tears. My
(dead) older sister and (wholly absent) dad (Enya "Book of Days"),
Kris's kids (Radiohead "Fog"), myself (the lyric, "...you surround
yourself with people who demand so little of you.") I couldn't tell if
it was brought about by the emotional intensity of the night before or
the catharsis associated with a body out of sync.
I still can't tell what brought it about and right now I'm in so much
pain and a state of such profound dehydration that every word of this
takes focused effort.
In other news, I can't fucking believe I'm sick again. I didn't get
sick in Ecuador even once -- not even a single episode of diarrhea or
a headache. And that was despite eating off the street and drinking
local water in the mountain towns. I can't even remember the last time
I was sick stateside. The most recent that comes to mind is food
poisoning from Joe's Crab Shack when Yvette was visiting, something
like three plus years ago. Is it just the hygeine here? Open sewers,
flies, undercooked meat, money stored on the meat itself, etc. Did I
pick up something nastier? I can't wait to peek at my blood in
Albuquerque and see if there's some gigantic parasite with a turban
and an AK.
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