Chapter 100

           

           Butallthefunandgamescaughtupwithmeafterafewweeks.Afterallthosenightsofnotsleepingandallthosedaysoftoomuchlovemaking,mybodystruckbackandIgotattackedbyanastyinfectioninmybladder.Atypicalafflictionoftheoverlysexed,especiallylikelytostrikewhenyou’renotusedtobeingoverlysexedanymore.Itcameupasfastasanytragedycanstrike.IwaswalkingthroughtownonemorningdoingsomechoreswhensuddenlyIwasbuckledoverwithburningpainandfever.I’dhadtheseinfectionsbefore,duringmywaywardyouth,soIknewwhatitwas.Ipanickedforamoment-thesethingscanbeawful-butthenthought,"ThankGodmybestfriendinBaliisahealer,"andIranintoWayan’sshop.

           "I’msick!"Isaid.

           Shetookonelookatmeandsaid,"Yousickfrommakingtoomuchsex,Liz."

           Igroaned,buriedmyfaceinmyhands,embarrassed.

           Shechuckled,said,"Youcan’tkeepsecretsfromWayan…"

           Iwasingodawfulpain.Anyonewho’severhadthisinfectionknowsthedreadfulfeeling;anyonewhohasn’texperiencedthisspecificsuffering-well,justmakeupyourowntorturousmetaphor,preferablyusingtheterm"firepoker"someplaceinthesentence.

           Wayan,likeaveteranfirefighteroranERsurgeon,nevermovesfast.Shemethodicallystartedchoppingsomeherbs,boilingsomeroots,wanderingbackandforthbetweenherkitchenandme,bringingmeonewarm,brown,toxic-tastingconcoctionafteranother,saying,"Drink,honey…"

           Wheneverthenextbatchboiled,shewouldsitacrossfromme,givingmesly,dirtylooksandusingtheopportunitytogetnosy.

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