06-14-2013, 04:49 PM
Dang, dang, dang.
Was feeling a bit run down my final evening in Beijing. I skipped the showing of a short film by Johnny at a bar. A handful of people went. In my hotel room, I tried organizing folders of photos but kept nodding off. Finally just crashed. Ticklish nose throughout the night, had to pee frequently, kept drinking lots of water. Felt like I needed to flush something from my system. A wonderful feeling when you know you're about to embark on a very long flight.
On the 12-hour flight home, I held up pretty well, but could tell my nose was getting runny. It didn't seem like anything I'd need to report. No fever, as far as I can tell. But now that I'm back and after a nap, I'm getting a sore throat.
All of little import, except that LC and I were going to drive up to Seattle tomorrow (nothing like following a 12-hour flight with a 12-hour drive) for a wake. This is a living wake. A writer friend of ours, Jay Lake, has been battling the big C for 2 or 3 years, and the doc just declared it terminal at maybe 6 to 9 months. Jay has been chronicling the whole experience on his blog and in a book published last year (The Specific Gravity of Grief), which is not for the feint of heart. But there's no way I can attend his wake when I'm sick like this. And I've just exposed LC. Crap.
Also, in 20 minutes I'll be calling to find out details of my jury duty starting next week.
Was feeling a bit run down my final evening in Beijing. I skipped the showing of a short film by Johnny at a bar. A handful of people went. In my hotel room, I tried organizing folders of photos but kept nodding off. Finally just crashed. Ticklish nose throughout the night, had to pee frequently, kept drinking lots of water. Felt like I needed to flush something from my system. A wonderful feeling when you know you're about to embark on a very long flight.
On the 12-hour flight home, I held up pretty well, but could tell my nose was getting runny. It didn't seem like anything I'd need to report. No fever, as far as I can tell. But now that I'm back and after a nap, I'm getting a sore throat.
All of little import, except that LC and I were going to drive up to Seattle tomorrow (nothing like following a 12-hour flight with a 12-hour drive) for a wake. This is a living wake. A writer friend of ours, Jay Lake, has been battling the big C for 2 or 3 years, and the doc just declared it terminal at maybe 6 to 9 months. Jay has been chronicling the whole experience on his blog and in a book published last year (The Specific Gravity of Grief), which is not for the feint of heart. But there's no way I can attend his wake when I'm sick like this. And I've just exposed LC. Crap.
Also, in 20 minutes I'll be calling to find out details of my jury duty starting next week.