Sick....

This sickness has lasted for two weeks now.

Somehow, through it, I've done a rotation at the ED where I've seen a type 4 decubitous ulcer (that's a bedsore with bone showing through), moved my household goods into my home, took a midterm exam and assembled my new grill.

Bloodwork results come on Wednesday.

It's all been a haze.

The worst has been the fevers. I go to bed at night freezing cold and I wake up hours later, bathed in sweat with bizarre and nightmarish dreams.

Here's one:

My left hand grabs a magazine out of my belt as my right index finger releases the empty one from my rifle.

Hold it by the bottom. Feel the mark in the front. Jam it in. Slap the bolt release with the palm of my hand.

Sight in....

"Sproingggg!"

The M-16 makes a distinctive noise. My cheek is jammed against the stock, right over the long spring that returns the bolt to the forward position. Those on the other end of it hear the deep bark as I fire. All I hear is the spring transmitting through my cheekbone.

My right thumb switches my gun to semi-automatic. Three shots at a time.

Sight in...

BUh BUH Sproingggg!

Pick a new target....

Sight in....

BUh BUH Sproinggggg!

Next!

Sight in....

It goes on.

All of my thoughts are on my actions.

I sight in with my right eye. My left one is looking for more targets. My hands do their work. New magazine, Clear the jams. Reload. Change sights.

I focus on what to do on my end of the gun.

The nightmare is on the other end of it.

If I don't get better soon, I'm going to go crazy.

--maddog