What is a wakeup to me, you probably already know. No one wants to hear “Dengue has been good for me.” It’s trite for me to say my fall helped me to feel the ground. Nonetheless, I want to let everybody I do know what could, could have and is happening to me. I know how it feels when I write to you. I also know how it feels to live my life (especially now after being knocked over the head long enough to be forced to process). I still don’t know, although I’ve got a few good incites, on how it might feel to receive my scattered, stoic, flippant smatterings of updates.
I’m sorry to have worried you. (Not about the worry that was in-order but more the build up worry my stories create). I’m sorry to convey really important things flip and on the flip side. I’m sorry that something about me comes across as dangerous and too accommodating to unacceptable life measures. I feel the love and the reality-check. However I have to say that what I write is not crrrrazy different from how I am living. I am as aware enough about my situations to deal with them as they come, and YES to tell the details LATER. Don’t worry, I l haven’t changed. I will always be hyper-aware. Yes I take worry and risk and envelop it in adventure, jokes, uniqueness and possibly a semi-sick fascination with the struggle of survival. I am only as disconnected to make it through to the next day, knowing all the way through exactly how much my connections are worth.
The Dengue allowed me, made me and everything around me STOP. Instead of 1 besito (little kiss goodbye, I got 8 from one person.. por si caso just to make sure. All of a sudden a really fast, really stressed, really productive world went quiet. Planted in my bed my accomplishments went from trying to micromanage a non-profit poor people’s HMO to trying really hard to animate the stricken eyes and pulse of my number one patient.
Dengue or not, we all are existing in drastically different worlds. I try to convey where and how I inhabit foreign spaces and places while recognizing the gravity of existences and at the same time sharing the not-so-different (roll with, bounce back, entertain the ride) Rachel approach. Dengue wasn’t a joke but you better believe I was joking the whole way through. Yeah there were times to worry. I worried, I cried, twice I think. But yeah I feel proud for the most part that I was the one making sure my doctors (and frightened onlookers) didn’t get too stressed out and learned and felt the experience (on many levels) as much as I did. I was told “Man you’re Dengue sucks… but jeez are you entertaining and enjoyable through it.”
So this is the deal.. I’m not some crazed egotistic comedian/tale teller who ignores reality and feeds off the hilarious disconnection. As I struggle through the Dengue, or get harassed by cops, or understand realities I would wish didn’t exist to understand, my jokes, my suppressed worry, fright and meta-commentary ARE my experience. They aren’t to dupe, divert, dismay. I told jokes in my Dengue cama bed to keep me (and later us) going. I’m never existing in this world alone, so the reverberated smiles and energy of those around me got me to the re energized smiling and energetic state I’m in now.
I’m all better, platelets are up, the Dengue got the beat down. Dengue can strike again (there are 4 types), and worse on the repeat, this I know. Thank you for your support, and how u give when I don’t know I need it. Thanks that this life is kickin… and yes I taunt it, and yes I think I have it all under control, and yes I’ll keep telling you to try not to worry. Understand me as much as I don’t understand myself. Disconnected from you or myself I am not. I am gonna try to think more and have quiet without the Dengue and have balance and circular strength unity cuz that’s what it’s all about.
Ps. I really like memoirs.. i always have. So, I'm practicing. It's ok that I'm as fascinated by the writing as fascinated/mystified as you all are by the result.
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