Like sands through the hourglass...

As a child, I rarely fell ill. My mother belonged to that group of parents who bemoaned lax discipline, slovenly manners and sparing the rod. As such, I never bothered to fall sick because it just wasn't at all like the comforting couch-potato ice cream-eating and pyjama-wearing stories that school friends regaled me with. All I got was re-runs of The Restless Years and Days of Our Lives with dry toast, hardly the stuff of which to boast during school breaks. Back then we only had a black and white TV so you can imagine all these years later how I've come to equate personal illness with 1980s West coast soap operas. But not CHiPs. Never CHiPs.

Kratos, my new best friend.

Last Sunday, while forcing Kratos's hand against Zeus in an early stage of God of War II, I suffered acute dizziness. Realising I wasn't drunk, I tried to stand up and briefly afterwards crashed with full force into my Playstation console, which inadvertently shut down. Nauseous and wincing at the thought of having to rematch Colossus again before I could save my progress, I made it to the bathroom with minimal energy loss. However, I suffered many attacks, mainly from butting into walls that constantly appeared out of nowhere, that I could neither evade nor appreciate, as the landlady had painted them beige.

Shaky on my legs, I fell into bed and spent the next twelve hours sleeping and hoping that I would awake fresh and rejuvenated. It wasn't to be. A good friend whisked me off to the closest hospital where I underwent two MRs, an audiogram, and an ECG. Some woman removed my sweat-soaked shirt and randomly shaved parts of my chest. My initial thoughts that she was creating a simple join-the-dots puzzle for her workmates were banished when she proceeded to attached coloured electrodes to my body, exciting me immensely because I've always liked things that are colour-coded. Feeling akin to a lab monkey, the nurse completed my look by dressing me in a white string vest, apparently designed to keep the wires in place. Really, I looked great.

Nurse introducing IV drip with minimum of fuss.

So Mehmet zealously organised all the details while I sat in the same emergency room for the second time since coming to Istanbul. I looked at my leg angrily but it didn't seem to understand the significance of my menacing glance. Next some orderly brusquely whisked me past a lot of -ology departments and I was unceremoniously dumped into private room 1108 which was home for the next 24 hours. Majella, long suffering flat mate that she is, brought me things I needed and read the latest hot gossip from The Economist until I sank into a heavy slumber.

Doctors weren't able to shed further light on my condition, but we were all pleased that a brain showed up in the MR. It put a lot of questions to rest, forever. The medics couldn't fathom what was causing my problem when brain, ears, and heart were functioning adequately. During my time in hospital I drank as much as the flavourless, colourless IV drip would allow and caught up Turkish daytime soap operas, the bulk of which consist in a nubile woman pouting astride a beast of a man, the latter cowering to no-one and looking all the more ridiculous since he's always overburdened with make-up. Some one ought tell Turkish television make-up artists that you can't cover up a five o'clock shadow in this part of the world. An exercise in futility.

Eventually the doctors discharged me. No idea what was wrong but hey, I didn't want to stay any longer either. Medication being exceptional value-for-money in this metropolis, I spent up big and commenced on my course for the next ten days. Frustratingly, nothing seems to be working and almost a week later I feel only a little less nauseous... I'm stumbling about like a northern Englander at 5pm on a Friday evening. Albeit with a lot less aggression.

My mate, not yours, taking an interactive tour of the local sights during sick time.

For an entire week I've been able only to sit or lay down, which excludes many activities such as washing dishes, ironing, and most other house-centred tasks. But I can eat. I can't focus well for extended periods of time and my thoughts are erratic disjointed, now more than usual. So I've to dedicated this spare time to God of War II as Kratos isn't looking for friendship based on intellectual compatibility, he just wants dedication and loyalty.

I'll attempt to catch up with world news later in the week. I have a feeling that a number of important events have occurred that are likely to shape the course of Turkish politics over the next few months. Still, now it's back to the Steeds of Time. I'm trying to meet up with the Gorgons but can't seem to get an easy ride over to the islands... So are the days of our lives.