This Post is Being Composed from my Hospital Bed

I don't have too much to say. Honestly, I just wanted a reason to use that title.

Anyway, for those of you who know and those who don't, I am about to spend my third night in a clinic in Kathmandu. On Thursday, I got pretty sick. On Friday, I got sicker. And on Saturday, I showed up here, expecting to maybe spend a night hooked up to an IV line. But the world doesn't always work in expected ways, and I haven't left this room since I entered it.

I was lucky to have a roommate for the first few hours: a 57 year-old Alaskan woman who got airlifted off of Everest. No big deal. When she was discharged, Elsie visited me from across the hall, dragging her IV rack behind her. We Fulbrighters are a hearty sort.

Between that, a visit from the Fulbright director, and many Skype calls, I have not been at a lack for love. Still, one cannot help but get a wee bit lonely while bedbound in a country 7500 miles away from almost everyone you love. I'm on the mend though, and compared tmany, I could have been much, much sicker. It is hard that this came exactly at the halfway point of my time here, during the holiday season when I want nothing more than to be home with my family and friends and poodles and Christmas tree.

But when I think about my students, and how distressed they are when I miss even a single day of school, I know I could never leave unless dire necessity - or the end of my grant - pulls me back to America.

So yeah. Here's hoping I get to go home tomorrow. And maybe even bathe, before I turn as grey as the Game of Thrones cast (the only proper way to be entertained in the hospital).