FEVER

It could have been the drugs.

I got the flu yesterday and went to the pharmacy to see what I could lay my hands on. Forget your hands, your mouth.. they said. What about your arse? I'd been sick for all of six hours and they were drawing up the penicilan shots. Something about my upbringing tells me I should suffer for a while first, so I said no thanks, I'll go the traditional way.

I could hardly stand. So there I was bent over, waiting for one of the six thousand staff members to finish staring at their calculator/space and come and help me. Finally, an old bloke presented me with a smorgasboard, one for the throat, one for the flu and an anti-biotic.

Anti-biotics? Already? ....Forget the upbringing, I'll take it.

All the drugs here have active ingredients I've never heard of, which is mildly exciting.

The guy starts handwriting a receipt, for me to take five metres down the counter to the 'cashier' who will take my money, so I can take the receipt back to the original guy and get my goods.

Realised I didn't have any cash so headed off to Superama so I could take a whole lot out at once and make the mandatory $7 fee for overseas withdrawals worthwhile. That block seemed like an eternity.

Figured I'd get some bread while I was at it. Went to the bakery area, where you have to get a tray, put the bread on it, take it to a woman who asks if you want it in plastic or paper .. and then you can take it to the cashier.

Go through the cashier, who passes everything to the other guy whose job is to put it in a bag for you (for a tip) and set off back to the pharmacy, where I waited for the cashier, and then waited from someone to finish a very long conversation so they could hand me my plastic bag of assorted pills.

This redundant-job aspect of Mexico, which actually ADDS time to the transaction normally amuses me, but today I was visualising myself yelling,

"Helll-oooo? Is this a pharmacy or a mortuary??? There are SICK people here, I'm SICK. I just need DRUGS."

Blah blah blah. Well, in the end, the four-block trip took an hour. Partly because I had to stop for rests every block.

I bailed on the evening's Girls Reunion Dinner (can you have a reunion if you haven't met half of them yet?) and lay in a delirium thinking I should make it over to the computer to send of a couple of apologetic emails.

Just couldn't do it.

But then the international desk emailed to say they wanted a story on Bush in Mexico (which I had pitched 8 hours earlier when I was in relatively good health) so from the comfort of my bed I wrote the story.

Unfortunately the only place to record your voice (noise reduction) is my cupboard. Crawling into the cupboard in good health is one thing. When you're running a high fever, it's completely another.

Back to bed where I cut, converted and sent the story... and then off into a restless sleep.

The strange thing, that I cannot explain, is that at 3am I woke (I had taken Ignacio's advice to 'drink water until you are peeing out of your ears') and went to the toilet.

Yes yes, another toilet, another epiphany.

I was sitting there, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of wellbeing. Of goodness. Like the self in me was welling up and getting bigger.

Either they put MDMA in the flu tablets over here, or I am in a good place.