I woke up coughing with a sore throat on Saturday. Naturally something was off. However not quite sure what else was masked behind the aftermath of the modest Friday drinks, my mind started playing tricks. It often does.
I’m not a hypochondriac by any means. Well, not in the sense that I think I’m going to die, but rather in terms of flashes of worst case scenarios. Once I get a diagnosis, then I’m rather enjoying it. My inner slacker is delighted and my conscious grants me full slacker immunity.
To get a diagnosis you need to see a doctor though. I’ve been known to tell my dad he’s an idiot for always putting of seeing the doctor until the end is near nigh. Thing is, I’ve recently come to realize I’m my father’s son in this context. That not only makes me an idiot too, but also a hypocrite. Add mild hypochondria and there you have it, the trifecta. You’re in awe, aren’t you!?
Anyway, first my hypochondriac self went to diagnose Hepatitis B. I cursed myself for not taking the second hepatitis B vaccine shot for a brief while, I mean, obviously that had to be it. Then my rational self intervened scoring the equalizer in remembering how it’s spread. Phew! In the ensuing battle, hypochondria came back strong with the left upper-cut that is malaria, leading to me sighing a bit of an understatement: “great there goes the weekend”. 2-1. Rationality responded with a quick counter attack though; can’t be malaria without a fever. This proceeded until the two combatants lost count, leaving me none the wiser.
Being honest to my traditions of idiocy and hypocrisy I labeled it a good old cold and instead invested in nasal spray. In retrospect it was correct. But more interestingly it led to the most unexpected of outcomes.
Next to the office we have an alley, one that with pride can argue to be as filthy as they come. Today, through my clear happy nasal sprayed nose, I got to experience it in its full glory. It was, well, I’m gonna go with otherworldly.
This shot does not do this street justice. Sure you can enjoy the washed away asphalt, but you can’t see the glass shreds lining the entire right hand side. Nor can you see the road kill rats. In fact they’re hard to spot even up close. Flattened beyond recognition it took me a few weeks to spot my first one. Which, incidentally, wasn’t as great as it sounds. You can however see the burn marks on the wall on the left hand side past the juice shops green and white awning. There sacrifices of unknown origin are being burnt daily. I think it might be the source. Or it’s the rats. Or both. The jury it not only out, they died trying this case.
Will say one thing though, it woke me up from my Monday morning coma. It really did.