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My Strep throat has now turned into a weird feeling I have whenever I swallow; downgraded significantly from the feeling two days’ back, when I would’ve sold out my country for pain relief medication that actually relieved pain.

Step 12:  having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

While being deprived of talk for essentially five days, my ability to communicate in person dropped to that of a first-week sign language student. While in a hardware store yesterday afternoon, a sudden rainstorm broke out, and the noise on the store’s metal roof was surprising.  From the hunched position over my cart, I locked eyes with an older lady in the center aisle, and while making gestures I’d learned from “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider”, gruntingly asked through my momentarily forgotten I-can’t-speak-yet-lips, “Wrin?” The woman nodded, then immediately began looking for either a cameraman or my state-appointed caregiver.

Today, I’m almost back to normal, and that’s both good and bad.  Good, because the pain was ridiculous.  Bad, because I’d had a series of mini-awakenings about life and survival and communication and people and the generalness of being.  Things are so much simpler when your main concern is staying hydrated.  Who has time for the nuances of a perceived slight when every moment is spent avoiding the buildup of spit?

Anyway, when I’m sick I don’t stay as close to the script of the program as I probably should; probably because I know I can’t physically do anything.  It’s a little vacation from my addiction, like being aboard a dry boat in the middle of the ocean.  Once I get my land legs back, however, it’s all hands on deck.

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