Oscillon

You know that moment when you finally admit to yourself that the little scratchiness in the back of your throat isn't allergies, and it isn't because the air is dry, it's that you are about to come down with a cold? I had one of those moments at about 5am the morning of what was supposed to be my triumphant flight home to California, except that it wasn't a lame cold I had come down with. I had spent the night drenched in sweats and shaking with chills, hoping that it was all just another of the many strange side effects from the painkillers and other junk I was on. But when it didn't let up for hours on end, it was clear that these were Not Good Signs.

It was lucky that we showed up to the Sloan-Kettering Urgent Care center at 6:30am, because by a few hours later, the place was overflowing. Miserable people lined the hallways, some of their families sitting next to them on their cots, or on the floor. Such was the scene at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the world. How can this be?

Once the diarrhea started in earnest, it was pretty clear that there was no possible way that we were getting on a plane that day. And when that smell hit, there was no mistaking it: A Clostridium difficile infection. This is a pathogenic bacterium that most of us are colonized with, but which is kept in check by the commensal bugs which normally dominate. When someone who isn't in tip-top shape anyway starts taking antibiotics for some other reason, there is always a risk that the antibiotics will kill off the good gut bacteria as unintended collateral damage, leaving the door wide open for CDiff, as it is (un)affectionately known, to set up camp. And there I was, having spent the past few days legitimately, if gently, up and about enjoying New York City, once again flattened by pain and discomfort.

In more tormented moments, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet just as I had managed to stand up. In more thoughtful moments, my understanding of the vibrational nature of the universe was reinforced: The greater oscillation between sickness and health is made up of many smaller ups and downs. This was one of those small dips in an otherwise upward-sloping curve. I was going to be fine, whatever misery the little bastards managed to dish out.

We finally got on a plane last Wednesday, and I have been recovering in baby steps here in Palo Alto. I'm mostly with it these days, though I do sleep a lot, and can't be up and about for very long before I need to lie down for a few minutes. Every day is better, and I am slowly adding to a list of the things that I want to accomplish this summer before jumping into studying for the national board exams, which I will have to take sometime before beginning third year of medical school in January. I'm not sure how long I will be in Palo Alto before heading back to LA. Is it better to enjoy being with my parents, and have their support as I hunker down for the most intense studying of my life, or will I be more sane if I re-establish some independence, and be better able to study around my peers? In any case, I will definitely be taking it easy at first, as I transition out of being sick and back into being productive. There are many deep breaths to be taken, many pools to float in, many good meals to indulge (I haven't weighed 142lbs since junior year of high school!), and much catching up to do - with friends, with family, and with myself.