I got up with the sun several days in a row, the reverse of my usual practice of retreating to a darkened room as the sun begins prying open the blinds here.  I walked many miles every day, seeing cool things, noticing and photographing great signs, calligraphy, sights. Walking with others, I did not stop when tired, although I often wanted to.  

I did notice the extraordinary heaviness in my lungs while climbing a steep hill.   I thought I might have suddenly aged forty years.    What the fuck?   I stood there gasping like a fish on the floor of the rowboat.  It took me a startlingly long moment to regain my breath.   My lungs were full of phlegm, green at first, lighter as time went on.   Was this the result of ten hours in the lung ward on the back of an international flight?  Sitting next to a robustly hacking man who also used my right side as a kind of body pillow?

I was sleepless on the plane coming back, looked with envy at the blissfully snoring Sekhnet across the aisle.   Afterwards she told me she’d felt my hand on her arm, periodically trying to get her attention so I could express my misery.   Wise of her, not a facial muscle twitched as I prodded her.

On arriving home I immediately crawled under the covers for a nap.  I slept five hours without turning over.  Glanced at the clock, it was already afternoon.  Next time I saw the clock it was the evening.

“Why am I so tired?” I asked Sekhnet, stumbling downstairs after a ten hour nap.

“Maybe you have walking pneumonia,” she said, helpfully.

The next few days passed in a kind of fog.  Shoot.  Maybe I do have walking pneumonia.  Glad my free Obamacare physical is coming up in a few days.  The last trip to that office, to see a clueless physician’s assistant, cost me almost $500.