I’ve been a little sick for a few days. It was some strange combination of the shock of the starvation of the survival course, the subsequent gorging of food during a four-day road trip back to
. . .
I visited a family physician who had no idea what to make of me. I had a big unkempt beard which covered much of my face and neck, a dark tan, and legs that belonged to someone else. It was a puzzling case. The doctor poked and prodded, hmmed and ahemed, then suggested a variety of tests, tests, and more tests. I took five the first day, which included blood, urine, and an ultrasound of my legs, and three the next for good measure. I passed them all.
. . .
Little by little, the symptoms of my various ailments have naturally gone away. The mystery of my ailment will remain as such for my doctors, but at least I’m doing better. My legs are mine again, and my cold is just about to check out, perhaps another day or so.
To celebrate my slow-but-steady recovery, I shaved my beard. I'd been wearing it for two weeks after the BOSS program, and it more or less granted me the freedom to act like a Cro-Magnon man. But in order to get better, I often psyche myself into it, in this case shaving, showering, and going out for a fun time. Ah, but to be bearded again...
The road is calling. I’ve got a handful of tasks to do before I’m out the door. But this is an official countdown. No matter what the weather, come next Friday, I’ll be hugging the coastline and heading into the sunset.
. . .