Day 345: Body: Let's Celebrate With Hives
At least I felt better. Photos: Isaac Stone Simonelli
Daily Updates are not edited and function more as daily journal entries – so if the plot seems to be all over the place or missing entirely and the tenses changes faster than a kaleidoscope, well, that's just the way it is.
I WAKE up with the sun and the sound of someone splashing in the water along the steep shoreline of the coast of Lamu, somewhere between Shela and Lamu Town, where the Musafir has dropped anchor.
After sickness striking again last night, I'm feeling stronger, healthier. Maybe after this eager shit – ready to run out of my bowels – I'll be back to at least 95 percent.
I scratch my crouch and then my sides.
My bowels are wanting to move quickly, but someone is in the toilet. Thirty people and only one toilet is not ideal when your stomach is acting up. The German girl I was crushing on is sitting awake on her mat not far from the bathroom. I'll have to try to make this a quiet shit.
I scratch again, then look where I'm scratching. Thick red welts are developing around my groin, a smatter of red dots and a few lumps are running from my armpits toward my elbows.
I've broken out in hives.
Calmly, I start to recall anything that is new to my system that might have brought about the allergic reaction. Perhaps this is carryover from whatever caused my stomach's turmoil.
“How you feeling?” Cleo says.
“I'm breaking out in hives,” I say, sitting in the hull next to my phone as it charges.
“I'm sorry. You can't catch a break on this trip,” she says. “Do you want to go see a doctor?”
She's the second or third person this morning to suggest that I go to a doctor. However, the symptoms are generic and the management of hives straightforward. There's no real reason to go to a doctor. A pharmacist, yes. A doctor, no.
If I was worried, I could pay for the reassurance of a doctor looking at my hives and telling me that there was nothing to worry about. She'd then suggest that I visit the pharmacist and pick up some antihistamines. I figure: skip the middleman.
Basically, I'm itchy. I agree with my fictional doctor: there's nothing to worry about. These things happen, which seems to be the slogan for this trip at the moment.