Oh my poor, dead, darling LiveJournal
I feel terrible.
This is true in both the literal and metaphoric sense. In the less physical, stoically-enduring-the-plague sense, I am drenched with guilt at having shamefully neglected my diary. Yea though I am traveling through many exotic foreign lands, and have accumulated a treasure trove of interesting stories to relate to my readers, many of whom doubtless think I am dead, I just haven’t taken time to write. Sorry about that – travel stories will be a bit out of sequence, but if you can just bear with me I will eventually spew out the content of my brain once I’m settled somewhere. This may not be until I return to North America, FYI.
So, back to the plague. I’m currently in Budapest, Hungary and am suffering a real whiz-banger of a head cold, replete with ample mucus, wheezing lungs, et al. In a test of my youthful assertions that I am one of those intrepid health-conscious people who spurn antibiotics and pissy litle pills that do nothing to actually address the *root* of the problem, but simply mask symptoms (ineffectually), I am now trapped in a city where I am so far removed from comprehension of the language that I can’t even mime my way into a decongestant.
This is very bad news, since I’ll be boarding a plane for Istanbul in about an hour, and there is a distinct possibility that my eardrums will enjoy the novel sensation of barotrauma (def: they will bloody well explode) as a result of pressure in the cabin being unequal to the pressure in my middle ear.
If I do suffer a ruptured eardrum (which is pretty likely, honestly), I can look forward to:
* Sharp, sudden pain
* Clear, pus-filled or bloody drainage from my ear
* Hearing loss
* Loudly ringing bell sounds (tinnitus)
You should not believe that I am resigning myself to this dreadful fate humbly. Oh no. I will not go gentle into that noiseless night. I got off my bedraggled, sick ass today and strode, bleary-eyed and sniffling, up to the drugstore on Josef Korut, questing for medicine with which to cure my sinus woes. However, there were some obstacles along the way. I like to call those obstacles, “words”.
Here is a rough transcript of today’s Actual Exchange between myself and what I presume was a Hungarian “pharmacist” (Pure speculation as to the job title, I may have in effect been speaking with the bin collector – maybe they wear white coats here? Anything is possible):
Me: Hello! I am SICK.
*pointing at face, sticking out my tongue, making wild rolling eyes, faux coughing, faux clawing-at-throat, waving at self to intimate hotness from fever*
“Pharmacist”: Megismételné, kérem?
*looking puzzled and apologetic, shaking head*
Me: Sorry, sorry, terribly sorry, I don’t speak ANY Hungarian. I need DRUGS. For my COLD.
*more wild gestures towards face, blowing nose, pointing at sinuses, coughing*
“Pharmacist”: Nem értem. Leírná, kérem?
*looking like maybe he thinks I’m hallucinating, probably a foreign crack addict trying to stick up the pharmacy without a visible weapon, gesturing sternly at paper and pen on desk*
Me: Oh, certainly! I’ll write it down. Brilliant!
*grabs pen, scribbles on paper “Sick! Need drugs!”*
“Pharmacist”: Hívja a rendõrséget!
*gesturing vigorously at the door with alarm and anger in his voice, waving phone receiver in my general direction, brow furrowed, shaking clenched fist*
As you can imagine, I departed in haste, without anything useful for my pounding sinuses. I did manage to quietly procure some German vitamin C tablets, a box of what I think are echinacea candy based on the pretty purple flower on the box, and a very sexy eucalyptus inhaler which is driving the single young men of Hungary wild with desire every time I jam it into my nostrils and making a strained sucking noise like a wet-vac trying to clean up a rather nasty spill. Oh yeah, I am one hot mama today people.
So, if you could all pray that my eustachian tube does its damn job and keeps that membrane in one piece during takeoff and landing, that would be fantastic please and thank you.
Hoping you are all well, wishing I could hear all of your voices one last time before the curtain of silence is pulled over me, possibly forever.
Melodramatically yours,
Moira
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EDITED TO ADD: Am now in Istanbul, totally deaf in right ear. Seriously. Oh well, I guess one ear is better than none, right? Right? What’s that? SORRY, I CAN’T HEAR YOU, COULD YOU SPEAK UP PLEASE? *sobbing*
