Cocktails

 

July 12, 2022

--and the rest of the day was annihilated by the onslaught of phlebitis, after a hiatus of 19 months. Brutal, but brief, because of the drugs. The gods of doxycycline be praised. There was an afternoon and night of being passed out on the bed, but this time the episode introduced itself with the most titanic nausea and flux. I diagnosed dysentery, though I couldn’t figure how that had happened. What I lost at both orifices could not be accounted for by what I’d taken in, even if several days were taken into consideration. The spectacular sickness a body can produce! I tried to tell my stomach, “All right, I’m leaning over the toilet, ready to let fly. You can take that hellish sensation away now.”

Fine now, not even that exhausted. 

Evening cocktails in Reynolds Village with the gang. I’m ever amazed by the depth and abundance of gossip that can arise from a relatively small place like All Souls. There must have been that much more of it at UNCA, but people do not generally or spontaneously repeat gossip to me. Mostly, that is well, but it also makes me wonder at my own obliviousness.