FINALLY after a month of lying around wasting away (now how’s THAT for drama queen, eh?) I’m feeling better from these pneumonia cooties. And I owe it all to the beauty of DRUGS… Lee Hsien Loong ain’t got a clue.
Okay, I don’t mean the illicit kind. Just straight up antibiotics. I’m not one to generally indulge in medication or drugs – don’t like medicine and the latter..I’ve experimented plenty, thanks. Sort of past it. But with this protracted lung thing going on? Bring it on. Increase the amount of pills to six per day? Sure. Get me a glass of juice to swallow my cocktail with, please.
So now it’s back to the world…s-l-o-w-l-y…Still get winded but at least I’ll be out there. It feels good!
Which reminds me: Drugs aren’t always ideal. Yesterday, walking down the street with Raphael, we both startle to see a man lying face down in the middle of traffic, vehicles merely maneuvering around him. After living in San Fran, I’m savvy to this stuff. He’s wasted and passed out. But THIS is new. Walking past passed-out homeless people on the sidewalk, mid-downtown, Financial District, constantly. But in the middle of traffic?
When I loudly gasped: “Oh my God!” someone explained “He fell over”…Thanks for the rocket science. That I can see. But is anyone going to help him?
A brave soul stopped his car, got out and propped Mr. Wasted on his feet on the curb (for a few seconds until he dropped down to the sidewalk). Brave if only because street dwellers are generally covered in vomit, feces, disease, body lice and filth. And I admit: I could have helped this man just like I could have helped any number of struggling homeless people throughout the years. But I am lacking in this department. I can’t get over my personal aversion to the smell of a urine soaked human being. I helped someone once but throughout the years have obviously become hardened. I dislike myself for it and I can’t help it.
Much has changed in Israel, and within myself, indeed. This is despair of a different sort.