It was a late finish. Again. And as my student and I slowly headed back to station very little words were spoken. There was a numbness in the air that seemed to choke any delight that would normally be taken in witnessing such a beautiful sunrise over the city.
As we rounded a corner the blinding golden light of the climbing sun spread across us like a wave of warm tropical surf. Turning on the radio to break the awkward silence, Bob Marley’s song, “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” sprung into life.
And, as the dawning of the new day poured its beginnings across the waking city I reflected painfully on the job we’d just done . . .
My breathing quickened and shallowed. I was aware that I was becoming sweaty and that my arms and legs were feeling like lead weights. Tingles began to creep from the ends of my fingers through my hands and slowly up my arms.
Slumping further into the chair, I desperately tried to keep my head up but waves of nausea began to take control.
“You sure you’re alright Binder? You really don’t look well you know. I think we should get you to lie down”
“I’m fine . . . honest . . . ” I lied.
And before I could give myself in to a good old fashioned fainting, the HART* guys picked me up and ‘assisted’ me to the mess room sofa where I lay for the next half hour slowly recovering.
An hour after taking my first round of Post Exposure Prophylaxis medicine and I was reduced to a gibbering wreck whereby my “life” had just been saved by HART. Oh, the humanity.
Pic courtesy of @LAS_HART