Saturday, 26 June 2021
We talk about bodies, try to classify them into two sets: strong/weak, sensitive/insensitive, try to fit ourselves in there, who's more susceptible, the what how when and why of it all. But it’s too hard. Bodies are complicated.
What I do know is that when we do get sick, Johan usually fares better than me. He’s sick for four days, sputters and spews for a night, then declares it finished, time to move on. By Day Two of mine, my head is on the pillow and my face sullen. A cough starts up and exhausts me with its demands.
We arrive at the last campground in Limmens NP, Munbilla, affectionately known as Tomato Island, a wide park-like expanse on the Roper River with a tumble of trailers and caravans – all of them with boats on trailers, reading for river fishing – scattered across the lawns, copiously watered by river water. Not perfect but I’m tired and the bumpy roads aren’t helping my cough.
My little white pills (nothing worse than ibuprofen) take the edge off, but it’s another bad night of coughing and wheezing. Sorry, I say, when we wake up. I must have kept my sleeping partner awake much of the night with all my noise.
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