Today marks the one year anniversary of a defining moment in my life. I was traveling in Mexico with my girlfriend. We were enjoying the warmth of the southern sun and the afterglow of our recent engagement. Volume 2 was off to the press and I had just graduated with a degree in Fine Art. The last 3 years had been a series of trials that left me exhausted, panic ridden, and sleep deprived. It was a much needed vacation and after about 15 bowls of guacamole and 2 cases of Pacifico I slowly remembered how to relax.

April 29th, 2006. It was our last night in Sayulita and we had just finished an amazing meal of chicken mole. All was well. Or so I thought. That fateful evening was the most terrifying and humbling experience of my short life.

As we left the restaurant I felt a brisk chill run through my body. We continued our walk home. My back began to ache, the chills became more violent. I searched my mind for answers. Maybe the last three years were catching up to me? Perhaps I had pushed myself to hard, maybe I had let my guard down and now my body was seeking revenge? With each step the aches grew more intense. By the time we reached our room the shakes were uncontrollable. I hit the bed and instantly went into a cold sweat. The next hour and a half brought waves of burning highs and shivering lows. I tossed and turned. The aches grew to bone-breaking intensity. My joints felt like they were exploding and my body temperature continued to rise. It was the most excruciating pain I had ever felt and I was scared. My girlfriend went for help.

This was not the flu, this was not pneumonia. I’ve had both and this was a different beast. I kept telling myself I could beat it. That somehow I could break the fever. Mind over matter. I repeated it over and over. I clung to it. And for a moment I thought I was winning. The highs and lows had started to dissipate when suddenly I felt a chilling sensation in my toes. It was like my feet had been lowered into ice water. The feeling began slowly working it’s way up my legs. I tried to move my toes. Nothing happened. Panic set in.

Up until this point I had remained somewhat logical and despite my fear I was still hopeful that I could get through whatever I was experiencing. I still had enough sense to recognize that this feeling creeping up my legs was taking control of my body. And this realization terrified me. I was alone and helpless. I had lost feeling and control of my legs and there was nothing I could do. I begged it to stop. It continued to move up and over my stomach. I pleaded for help. My arms began to coil back towards my chest, my hands curled into twisted fists. My mind collapsed. It raced between thoughts of imminent death, permanent physical disfigurement, and a thousand good-byes.

I was paralyzed, barely able to control my breath. The cold icy feeling went over my shoulders, wrapped behind my neck, and started to curl over the back of my head. It pulled at my face. I felt my mouth and cheeks contort. I forced what I thought would be my last words out of the side of my mouth. Please help me. My vision blurred.

A flood of cold water shocked my system. I gasped for air. I was barely upright in the tile shower of our room, my girlfriend supporting my weight. I still couldn’t move my arms or legs. A rush of heat shot through me. Im still here.

The next 24 hours consisted of a visit to a Mexican hospital (and a misdiagnosis of my illness), a 2 1⁄2 hour bus ride to the airport (which included a 20 minute impromptu performance from one of Mexico’s worst guitarristas), 1 flight and a layover in SF (which has a wide selection of over-priced and disgusting food), 1 flight back to PDX (which actually has pretty good food), a trip to a doctor that specializes in Travel Illnesses, and finally a diagnosis. The result: Dengue Fever. A mosquito borne virus also known as “Break-Bone Fever”. The name is derived from the Swahili word “dinga” (seizure, cramp) that describes the disease as being caused by an evil spirit. Indeed. I’ll save the details for Wikipedia.

But what does it all mean? It took 2 months to fully recover. I had to rest. It was a radical change from the hectic pace I had grown to crave. I was unable to work, I pushed back the release of Volume 2, I had to turn down a release/listening party, and I missed some really good shows. But all of those things seemed insignificant. The emotional recoil caused by this event made me recognize how much of my life I had taken for granted. People, places, and music. Life, love, and laughter. Good food, fresh air, and funny pets. They all took on new meaning. It was a valuable experience that continues to remind me that our time here is short and that life is a fragile ephemeral moment.

Peace,

P