The musings of a dying man.

Is a blog post that I wanted to write yesterday. Or at the very least I figured I’d still be in the same state of mind and it would apply today. Sadly, that isn’t true. Or rather, happily, that isn’t true. Obviously I’m exaggerating and I wasn’t going to die but that’s probably what the first people who had ebola thought as well. Okay okay, I shouldn’t compare myself to an ebola victim especially when I’m in Africa because that just seems rude. I was sick though. I still am feeling sick, just not at the level of which I was yesterday. I only make such a point of this because sickness for me is rare. Or rare enough, I think this would be maybe the second time I’ve ever really felt unwell in the last six months or so. Last night when I was burning up underneath a blanket but feeling extremely cold if I even moved without it, I didn’t think I would be going to work today. I didn’t think I’d be going to the Sahara today either. Luckily that has changed. Probably because my body doesn’t tolerate feeling like crap or maybe because I prayed to Nick Saban for strength. I could say I blame this on the hospital but seeing as how I mainly work with asthma patients and then children with a variety of ailments in the other center, I’m not going to blame them. Even though Denis the Doctor said the hospital we work at reminded him of Italian hospitals in the ’80s which he compared to hospitals in the US in possibly the ’40s. So I’m not working in a haven of innovation, sanitation, or some other word that ends in -tion but I’m still not going to blame that place. I will blame the boy from West Point. The boy that has now gotten close to half of the current volunteers sick.  It’s okay though. Because I think I’m ready. Or I’m ready as I’m going to be because we’re leaving on a ten hour bus ride in about forty minutes and I don’t have much more time to get ready if I wasn’t already. Remember me folks. I said that to people yesterday when I thought I might be overcome by my fever in my sleep. Remember me though in another way. In a non-dying related way. Remember as the boy who trekked into the desert and wore a turban and rode a camel. Remember me in other ways too. I’m not entirely sure why you’re remembering me because I’m in no risk of dying but I will be without internet for a couple of days and with attention spans as short as they are nowadays, remember me because may consider me dead if you haven’t heard from me in a day or so. When I return I’ll have conquered the desert. I may also look like a tomato. I may hate camels. I may hate sand. Or I could experience new visions and become a changed man. Anything is possible out there. I was told no matter what I did in Morocco, that experiencing the Sahara was something else. That it was the thing to do. Thus I shall do it. I’m excited. So it goes.


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