As soon as I got in the car with him, his greeting was “You look like hell!”
“Good, I wouldn’t want to confuse anyone!” I mumbled.
I managed to drive the hour back to Lafayette and crawl into bed to try and ease away from the drowning feeling that had overtaken me.
The next morning when I stood up I looked in amazement as the room swayed before me. I sank back down into the bed and groaned. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t everyday jet lag.
I managed to call Doctor Olson, who I had seen over several years. His office was in Orinda. I told him I had just returned from Africa and listed my symptoms. He told me to find someone to drive me in to his office, a mere five miles away.
I walked up and down the block knocking on every door, but not one person was at home. So, I did the next logical thing that popped into my head. I got in the car and drove myself to Orinda, heck, it wasn’t that far.
I guess I made it to the right parking lot, because I woke up in Intensive Care at Alta Bates Hospital three days later. I was on the quarantine ward. Dr. Olson said I made it to his office, opened the door and passed out. Fortunately the seat belt protected me from falling out of the car.
