Ego: April 2007 Archives

I walked straight into a plate glass window on Friday.

It wasn't the highlight of my week, but seems fitting a party to the strange syndrome of behaviours offered up to me by my body these four days gone by. Mild disorientation, sensorily unique headaches, neck pain, considerable body heat and a couple of aggressive mood swings in the testosterone-driven raging-silverback-gorilla sort of direction.

Transparent walls aside -- apparently this marriage of biology and silicous oxides runs in the female line of my family -- these are the mild symptoms of mild brain inflammation caused by a vaccine, and the thought that there's two more shots of this intravenous liniment to go isn't the most exciting thing in my Universe.

Still, if the antibodies are already on the go, then tomorrow's shot will either result in few further symptoms, or complete anaphylaxis. While occasional drama spices up the daily run, I hold out for the more probable scenario.

I've decided that things will be back to normal today, though the likelihood of my body agreeing with my stubborn mind makes the temptation of staying in bed, in the buff, all day long, the most attractive recourse possible. Alas, stuff beckons.

Oh, but it was strange.

Out in the sunshine, walking father Thames in the fresh air and awash with summery vibes, there were moments when I wanted to curl up and cry on the pavement for no good reason, punctuated by my own amusement at the fact that this sudden volatility of mind so isn't me.

Then anger and frustration, and wanting to smash my knuckles into the piles of broken rock and glass on the beaches at Battersea to put my mind elsewhere, toward a crimson decoy, something tangible. Preservation algorithms threw slag at the low tide instead, a limitless volume for transiently limitless feeling.

Then on the street, miles down the road, I chanced upon a proverbial angel, and my inconstant choler, as capricious and fickle as she was potent, fled with her burgundy skirts hitched above her ankles in the face of his genial smile and allusive embrace.

Once in a while, friends will pitch up at just the right time and place to crush a demon, unaffected in manner, straightforward and sincere, unaware of how you feel and utterly resplendent for it.

And whether or not you let them know it, they become heroes.