The Name of the Wind and a Bible

If someone told me.

You’re gonna catch a life threatening disease and spend 10 odd days gasping for air and have a permanent fear of sleeping lying down. I would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

The former has become eternally true but the latter comes and goes like a constantly travelling friend pulling into town on the odd weekend only to say hi and go. Cept he isn’t welcome. Well sorta.

Things have came and went pretty quickly in the past year. There we’re the ups and the downs. The ins and the outs. The surfs and the wipeouts.

Yet somehow it feels like it’s been ages since I cut the hospital tags off and removed the breathing tube. There’s no more stumbling and leaning against walls just to pee. I can jog for at least a half a kilometre now with the bloody hazy smell coming from my lungs.

I’ve bunny hopped in a plane across Europe. Playfully chased numerous skirts and failed miserably.(God forbid I succeed with such dismal effort) Made new friends in the north. Finally reversed the output of the translator in my head to be an active output. Driven to Melaka twice. Even saw the acoustic abjurer Andy Mckee. Met the supersara now upgraded to ubersupersara.

However I’m still walking around the forests with my medical issues. At least I’m not wheezing for air and slapping the “Call nurse” button while gasping for enough air to string a prayer together. Going from reading Name of the Wind during the day. And gripping my Bible day and night as a comforting plushie like a child with a teddy waiting for the nurse to wake me for my next pill in the morning and for the sun to set knowing that I survived another day. Only for night to fully set and my family to return home leaving me to battle sleep and my fear of it. Not so much the fear of it but the fear of not returning from it.

Every step was a shocker. Learning that I couldn’t gather enough energy to shower without feeling completely tired the whole day after that was one. The other was learning I might have paid the high sums and wages only never to use my skills and equipment.

Then I walked free. Fought the battle from my house. Drank the tinctures. Played Dead Space to kill time while waiting for more pills or drinks or summat just to carry on to recuperate. And then…I cleared to fly. And the world exploded. I met new people. I reorganised my mind. I met old people again on different levels. And learnt why I paid all those prices.

It’s been good development. I even saw Ms Chian without giving her too much to grumble over. (my lack of a partner seems to be a serious one though)(However I repeat, may I not succeed till I put my back into it.)

At least I’ve learnt not to be so cranky. To spring. When I step. To chin up when things look down. To be bathed in bitterness but get out and towel off. It’s all fine and dandy like the whispering wind muttering intelligible words in your ear and leaving quietly.

And now for my next trick. I’ll survive another year.