No Man Is A Slice

During my three day food-poisoning ordeal in Manila--well, it seems to have been food-poisoning, l am not certain as I am still not feeling 100% (I am becoming a hypochondriac I fear)--one thing loomed on my mind as I was fighting through it. I thought to myself, "You know, I am alone here, sick as a dog. A stray, in a strange country." It is difficult to be both sick and the agent acting on behalf of the sick at the same time. Those two roles, opposite as they were, were mine.

I did have back and forth communication with my high school's school nurse on Facebook Messenger (thanks Nurse Glock), a phone conversation with an emergency nurse in Nashville, TN, working on of my doctor's behalf at 2:00 AM EST, a couple of friends who are seasoned travelers giving me advice and online companionship, and my Dad.  All through the internet and international communication networks. My best friend's brothers were also in town with their families, plus the American Embassy, was about three blocks away. So, I wasn't exactly alone alone. But neither was a I accompanied by a caring person by my side. 

It is no fun to suffer alone and if a person is single, it is pretty certain that any succor provided is only when it gets serious. Although my distress was far from minor, it wasn't life-threatening either. So, there I was having to take steps for my sickness while being sick. Doctor, heal thyself. 

One device that I had to obtain because they didn't have one at the hotel was a digital thermometer. Fortunately, I was able to track one down at a local drugstore in Manila, just three blocks away from the hotel. So, in-between anal eruptions, I made a dash there and bought one. Because my body temp was not rising, I felt less concerned than I would have been otherwise. A fever would have indicated a more serious medical issue and as it was I was in the normal range.

BTW, I am keeping that digital thermometer in my travel bag. The labeling stated something like it has enough battery charge for a 1,000 checks. I am also going to pack some antibiotics next time.  Live and learn. Every bad experience is a lesson...and I am chalking up the Philippines in this category.
        
In a text with my Dad, as I prepared to pack to come home and be at his place the first night back in PA, after not eating much for three days and losing about ten pounds,  I asked it he could get me a Sal's Pizza from the local hometown pizza shop where I have been downing slices since 1970. The pizza became a hope, floating in front of me like an apparition. Since being single again, my Dad has taken a care-taking role for me. He was there for me when my appendix perforated and I needed emergency surgery and intensive aftercare. He was a great help in the Manila distress. I think when hard-times hit, we get a good read on who really cares for us. Most peoples' bandwidth is their family. Maybe a friend or two. And then, nothing.  For all of the talk of community, most of us know that we are pretty much alone in world.

My Dad, although he is hardly the touchy-feeling type (he is more from the tough shit school of life) has consistently been there for me. The pizza really hit to the spot in my stomach. More importantly, it hit the spot in my soul that felt awfully alone. Thanks Dad.