No Passport Required

Ugh! Sooo sick! I managed to stay out of the hospital for a good six days.  I always have that hope, every round, that despite having just had my entire immune system completely knocked out by chemotherapy, that I won't spike a fever. That I'll be fine. But, as they say, it can turn on a dime. Which is why they worry about me when I sign myself out to go to my beautiful home to be with my beautiful family instead of staying in the hospital waiting around to be unwell. For them, that is ultimately safer. I get it. But who in their right mind waits around to get sick?

So being left in my own hands, all thru the night on Friday, I kept checking my temp because I had a feeling. A little bit of a chill up my spine. Not like an Alfred Hitchcock chill. More of an Into Thin Air chill. Just plain old cold. That's how fevers usually begin with me. In Celsius, 37 is normal. That gets confusing when you're born and raised in Fahrenheit and you're half asleep. What does it all mean? 38. How could 38 mean anything? Or at least anything dangerous. I had to shake off the cobwebs and call a cab for the hospital.

My bag was packed already with the clothes I took to Morocco. After they were washed I just threw them back in there. Wouldn't anyone assume that a bag packed for a vacation to Marrakech would do you just fine for a hospital stay in London?  So far I've been layering a lot of sundresses here and I haven't needed suntan lotion yet. Or my passport.