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I really despise being sick.  It’s not even necessarily the major symptoms that are so loathsome.  I mean, I know how to deal with asthma, and a running nose is annoying but bearable.  Even headaches are, well, all in a day’s work.  It’s the fever, and how my brain starts feeling like someone filled it with molasses and all the gears are gummed up.  It’s the total lack of energy or appetite or will to do anything at all, compounded by the sense of impending doom because there are really important things that I should be doing right now, only I can’t remember what they are.  It’s the way even little things totally wipe me out. I run one little errand, and then I want to go back to bed for the rest of the day.

And yet, as aggravating as this is, I’m still a total whiny-butt.  My brother’s in the hospital in India with a 103 degree fever.  We don’t know what’s causing it yet, though it’s probably malaria or dengue.  He’s not always careful about the water he drinks, and he’s been volunteering his spare time (he teaches Computer Stuff at a university in Kolkatta) with Mother Theresa’s sisters, so there’s lots of possible causes.  My little cold/flu is pretty insignificant compared to that.

Friends, please pray for my brother!

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