Ode to Ginger Ale and Saltines

As I have likely overemphasized by now, this city is infamous for trash, smog and disease. And so, for many that come, sickness beckons them upon arrival. However, for an unidentifiable reason, I relished in pristine health for the first six months here. In fact, while numerous health-conscious colleagues were dropping like flies, I marched on. Nevertheless, the second half of the monsoon season proved more than my immune system could handle. On multiple occasions over the past few weeks, I've spent days and nights sweating through a hoody with a bucket by the bed. And in subsequent days, the recurring, striking irony of dehydration in the midst of the very mist of the wettest climate I've ever experienced.

Irrespective, I write to convey reasons why, contrary to my prior opinion, it is easier to be sick here than at home. Granted, it is not the same as mom tending to my every need and ensuring a ready supply of saltines and ginger ale. Nor are the distractions as nice- instead of the television, movies, high-speed internet, air conditioning, and hot water; I have spotty internet, no AC, the crow that sits on my window and incessantly caws at me, and only cold water for about three hours a day. If it appears I've painted the picture too bleak, please, permit me a few more paragraphs to make my point.

First, for me, sympathy during sickness is destructive. I feed on it (Note this especially if you're considering sending me a schmoozer email after reading this.). As a child... cough... ahem... college student... at times when I fell ill and mom waited on me hand-and-foot, I soaked it up. "Ahhh," I moaned, or "My head is going to explode," I whined, stretching out every syllable and coating it with shortness of breath to maximize sympathetic-absorbsion (not a word). And, try as she did to resist the lure of my hyperbolic sufferings, she conceded and brought the damp washrag for my forehead. Such sympathetic reactions drove me to adopt the misguided viewpoint that my condition merited sympathy.

Here, seeking such sympathy does not arise as a viable option. Not only is such sympathy not readily available, but thousands of sobering comparisons occupy the view from the window of my bedroom alone. Tempted to whine in usual fashion, I get up from my bed and look out the window. Seven floors beneath my ivory tower, thousands of people grunt through lifetimes without an ounce of sympathy inside makeshift homes suffering illness and disease far worse and far more frequent than me. To them, it is not a matter of movies and AC, but IF I will get well and IF anybody cares. From my window, I see more than the slum dwellers, I see the pavement dwellers, those incapable of even getting into a slum. Covered in sores, limbless, toothless, eyeless, their mattress is a concrete slab and they do not know sympathy- the very ones who deserve it. This realization compelled my focus to shift from gleaning sympathy to just getting better. It's really an expedited process, a lack of options, removing the "woe is me" part. Doing this allows me to heal faster and to be a lot more productive when I am sick.

My second and third reasons are remarkably lighter: that the healthcare available to, at least me, in India is wonderful to experience and that theories from national friends and colleagues concerning my illness provide a boundless source of confusion and humor. So, what I mean practically by the healthcare available to me is this: competent doctors promptly conduct home visits at a minimal fee. I'm not sure how this works in a macro sense. I just know that, yes, a doctor will come to my house, examine me, give me a shot and some pills, and charge almost nothing. Wow- is that different! Next, the theories (not from the doctor) on why I get sick range from the fact that I drink too much "Choco-Milk" because it is a child's drink and "you should not be having Choco-Milk;" to, "Peanut butter sandwiches are making you sick because you are from a cool climate and now you are in a warm climate and peanut butter is only for digestion in cool climates;" and even to, "You are drinking chilled water. Chilled water will make you ill. Do not cool the water." Probably, the facet I find most humorous is that everyone has a theory involving food/digestion that explains your sickness.

Finally, having no distractions and being forced to lie in bed all day forces me to spend time with God. It is like mandatory quiet time with God. When the hustle and bustle of work every day and activities every night diminishes my quality time with God, getting sick provides the necessary refocusing on the work and the task at hand.

And just for your information, in case you're a schmoozer writer, I'm doing much better today and am excited to return to work Monday.