Monday, April 23, 2012

Here Be Dragons, a novel - (excerpt #6)







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While at the airport, I checked my bags, keeping a sticker on my ticket that I was supposed to compare to my luggage proper.
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Once in my seat, on the plane, I stuck the ticket in the pocket in front of me and never thought of it again, especially while watching the free nonsense romantic comedy that played in front of me, in front of us all, whether we liked it or not.
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I fell asleep, realizing I had not had the proper night’s sleep that I had dreamt I had. It was not a long nap, but long enough to have a dream that woke me up in a frigid fright.
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In my dream I had just gone to the doctor for my annual check-up, had some blood drawn, and was told by my physician that I had contracted a strain of a particular virus that had recently been discovered. I could tell that he was unerringly nervous during his attempted description of the disease, one that had no known cure, only a host of experimental drug treatments that were normally used for other ailments, but have, in some studies, shown to be effective, at least in part, for the most major of symptoms.
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He told me, his hands shaking in writing the prescriptions, causing his handwriting to be even more illegible than normal, that I should not wait to fill them, that I should begin taking the full regimen, not once missing a dose; he told me that I would experience a host of unpleasant side-effects, which would include nausea, insomnia, rectal bleeding, potential loss of feeling in my extremities, the possibility of blindness, hair loss, and, in the extreme, death.
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He told me the possibility of these side-effects would still be better than what would happen if the virus took a full hold on my body, which, in his words, would equate to medieval torture on Inquisition-scaled heights.  
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Upon returning from the pharmacy, I discovered I was now in possession of some 600 pills of varying sizes. I had capsules, tabs, suppositories; horse-pills that I knew would be difficult for my already tightening throat muscles. And this was simply a one-month supply.
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Sitting down at my kitchen table with a tall glass of water and the first of the daily 20 pill new routine, I wondered if it would, indeed, be worth it to live like this now, if living was what I was actually being presented with.
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On the plane, my neighbor had nudged me for me to move so he could go to the bathroom, and I awoke with a shudder that made me want to punch him for touching me. I was in a cold sweat, and nearly had to dampen my sleeve wholesale to not look a nervous fright to my co-travelers and stewardesses.
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When my neighbor returned, he apologized for giving me a startle:
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“You aren’t a fan of flying, are you?”
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I gave him a weak smile, putting on a pair of headphones that were not attached to anything of use, but he got the hint and left me alone for the remainder of the flight. 
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