DUH! was the internal outburst as I finally put the pieces of the puzzle together and fit the parts back into a coherent ensemble.

I'd wondered whether it was just a natural process in the beginning. I thought that it was simply the way things spin, after a few years on this planet.
When I reached the conclusion that something was out of order however, I decided to look into it deeper, but had not arrived to this simply obvious reason... until today.

I had to sit in a wooden lookout spot hung in the woods upon tall tree trunks with an old school friend of mine I hadn't seen for eight years for that little detail to spring out of the background and appear as pure obviousness: I've suffered apparent partial memory loss due to the high altitude sickness I encountered a few months ago. Abbott had asked me whether I had suffered high fever during my stay in Asia but it hadn't really been high and long enough to explain the current trend of memory-loss that seems to have imposed itself upon my mind. As I tried to explain what was going on in my little mind to Nicolas, my mouth spoke for me and mentioned the altitude sickness.

DUH! was the internal outburst that followed...


When we flew to Lhasa, I knew I was putting myself under risk of developing AMS, as we were ascending from nearby ocean level to beyond 3000 maters of altitude. Upon arrival I felt great, the lights were bright, the air crisp and thin, the people lovely and my Heart bursting with previously unknown Joy. Sarju worried that I should be feeling something, at least some shortness of breath. But I didn't. But I should have. But I didn't.
My body wasn't adjusting.

A few hours later and after a big cup of local herbal tea to help with altitude related bodily changes, my vision suddenly became disturbed and I could hardly concentrate on any one single thing. Everything became annoying, the sounds, the sights, whatever people were saying, and then pang a headache like none before. Like a very high frequency and deafening pain that wrapped my head. As if something was covering my brain, as if there was a layer that needed to go, a layer that was messing everything up.

I drank some more tea.

I became nauseous.
The food I had just had was - ugh - no, I don't want any anymore, thank you.
I tried to relax, concentrate on the image of more oxygen circulating throughout my body, my mind, my brain, I kept my eyes from wandering too much around and just waited - painfully - for Sarju to return and take me to the hotel he'd gone to book a room for us in.

Going out was a relief. Even though the sun was hard, even though the streets were busy, being outside felt like a relief. Perhaps it was the moving, perhaps it was the distractions, I don't know. But still, I only yearned to go to bed and rest. I had read somewhere that going to sleep in such a condition was not a good idea but I opted for it anyway. I felt so drowsy, I just wanted to sleep.

They had a sign in the hotel room saying that you shouldn't take a shower for the first two to three days of your stay in Lhasa because it could complicate your acclimatisation. But I can't remember the reasons behind it anymore.

Sarju left me alone for some time while I lay on the large soft bed with Lhasa and the Jokhang almost right outside the window. I felt pure bliss and gratitude at being there. The headache was getting worse however, no matter how much I drank or how I altered my breathing. I knew I just had to ride it out. I'd read about it, I knew what was in store for me.

While I slept I had strange dreams. Everything seemed strange, really. As if I had entered another plane of existence, but it was a painful passage. I dreamt of being down in the inner courtyard that was outside the room window. There were locals, laughing, playing, and I was amongst them, but at the same time not really there. A man came in a local dress and told me it was time to go, to go through the tunnel that connected this courtyard to the bustling street. But the tunnel was pitch black, I couldn't see it leading to the street - it was actually leading to nowhere.

He urged me and told me it was time to go. I let him take me by the hand and I walked towards the tunnel with him. I stood for a moment and then told him that no, it wasn't time for me yet. I still had plenty to do, that no, not now. As I decided so it felt as if I was being pulled back from far far away and I woke up, opened my eyes and landed back in my body - still crippled with the same banging headache. Some seconds later Sarju entered.

He forced me to eat despite my nausea.
I'm grateful he did... it probably helped me more than anything.

We went for a walk into town, to the Jokhang.
There were people everywhere and I just wanted to be there. Sarju kept on asking me whether I was ok and I kept on not answering because I didn't want to speak. Speaking made me nauseous and the headache worse. He later explained that I looked like a ghost and that he had been extremely worried. I'm happy he didn't tell me that on the spot :)

There was a huge crowd, some important monk or other was passing with the car, everyone was joining in for a walk around the Jokhang, and so did we. I felt transported, lifted and surrendered totally to whatever was happening both in and outside of my body. I was alive, but not really there. Fully there but not really alive. A hard state to explain.

Eventually the headache disappeared and the next morning I woke up renewed and rested.

It was a regular spout of AMS. Nothing really serious. In with all of that was mixed a lot of personal stuff. All of it relating to the trip, to what I had chosen to undergo and whatever else there is in one's Life. But a few days later something a bit more dramatic happened, something neither me nor Sarju managed to predict in any way.

We'd spent quite some time in and around Lhasa, hiking, riding horses, doing nothing, taking pictures, getting ripped off by the rickshaw drivers, eating and enjoying Being. We then finally headed out of the capital with two lovely German women in a common Jeep and with a common goal: driving down to Nepal while taking advantage of the opportunity to see more of the country.

One of our stopping points was Mount Everest Base Camp - alt. 5180.
A few weeks before our arrival some Canadians had displayed a Free Tibet sign at the camp and it was hence closed to those willing to stay overnight. Luckily then, another camp had been set up a few hundred meters lower, where a number of semi-tents served as both restaurants and sleep-inns.

We had driven the whole day to reach this place, slowly but surely climbing higher and higher through rugged lands. It was a magnificent ascent and luckily we still got the rough version - they were busily building a proper two lane street up to the camp. As we arrived, the weather was clear enough for us to see the summit, which was quite a rare occurrence (the next day it was completely clouded in from early morning onwards). Having sat in the car the whole day, as on many of the previous days, we decided to walk up to the actual base camp to have a closer look at the mountain foot.

Sarju, the two German women and myself decided to go up on foot, leaving the horse-ride ascent for the next day. The air was quite a bit thinner but we had hiked so much with Sarju that I wasn't really worried about acclimatisation. He pushed ahead much faster than the rest of us, while one of the German women decided to head back down a few hundred meters later. After walking and then climbing up onto glacier drumlins I started to feel a slight headache take over... a familiar kind of headache, one I had already felt in Lhasa. But this was smoother, and I was going to descend in a while anyway so I didn't worry about it too much.

On the way down I started feeling irritated again, like the first time I had had the headache, but knowing what it was I decided to try and keep calm. I also tried to distract myself, sending smses (yes, mobile phones work flawlessly within the Himalayas - as unbelievable as it may sound), calling a friend, looking around, taking pictures, and all that while walking downwards.

By the time we reached the spot we'd decided was going to be our shelter for the night I thought my headache would alleviate, at least somewhat. But it didn't. I lay down and decided to take it calm, but then started feeling dizzy and worried. I discussed options with the German women and Sarju. I said I would be fine, they told me to take medicine. I said I would be fine and that it would pass. It didn't.

I went to relieve myself of the excess water I had stored up and as I got up I realised that my periods just started. Top it all off. I'm lacking oxygen and bleeding. What a treat.

Back in the tent, I started to feel severe weakness, I had a hard time moving. My mind stopped responding, I just felt unease and the pain, the pain! The pain just wouldn't go away, it got worse. It felt as if I wasn't really getting any air and that a heavy layer was clogging up my brain. I took deep breaths but it made me feel dizzier. Then I started worrying even more. I knew I wasn't supposed to, that it would make it worse. Worrying made things worse. I'd read about it. I thought I knew everything.

I finally accepted to take some Chinese medicine.

As I got up to drink water I could barely function. My arm seemed so heavy and the glass so furtive. Nothing made sense, the space we were in was there but non-existent. I couldn't follow what was being said anymore, although I pretended I did. Then I got cold. Really cold. I was sleepy. Cold. Pain. Dizzy. Weak. No will anymore.

The air inside was making me sick. I wanted to go out, I was nauseous, but I didn't have the power to. And I was cold. Very cold.

I knew Sarju was worried again but I couldn't tell him not to worry.
I could just about nod or shake my head.
I needed to lay down again, this time covered, well covered.

They prepared a bed for me with my head right by the open door and then put my cap on my head and sunk me deep below layers. I was still cold, shivering, barely able to move, in pain. And nauseous. But no, I didn't want to throw up, I just wanted to breathe the outside air.

I became heavier and heavier, the layers above me slowly heated me up even though my feet and arms felt ice-cold. Not enough circulation, I guessed. Sarju sat by me, and then someone else talked to me but I wasn't really there anymore. I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, I was scared but couldn't convey anything of what was going on inside me with whomever was there. I cried. My ears got wet. It was annoying and I wanted to wipe them dry, by I couldn't move. And I couldn't tell Sarju to do it for me either so I just lay there and let my ears be wet.

Slowly everything seemed further and further away, as if I was sinking into the endless space that was in me, further away and deep within my body. There was an endless space, and infinity bound within the outer borders of my body. I sank there. It was dark but not unpleasant. I was sad, afraid and worried, but at peace. An odd feeling. I knew Sarju was there even though I didn't open my eyes. I knew people were coming and going and I heard them speaking out loud from far, far, far away although I guess they were standing right by me at the doorway.

I haven't a clue how long this went on for.
A moment. An eternity. It was all the same anyway.
Perhaps I slept, perhaps I did something else. I don't know. But it was black and peaceful.

I don't remember when I got back to my senses. The next thing I do remember is feeling somewhat better, grateful for and asking for more of the Chinese medicine as well as getting prepared to go to sleep in another position, with my head out of the doorway and deeper in the warmth that still lingered inside the tent. Sarju helped me head out one last time to go pee yet he had to hold onto me, I was still not quite able to hold myself straight up in proper balance. He insisted I should wake him up if I needed to go out later on in the night.

That night was not as peaceful as the others. I had pain and odd things going on in my body. And I needed to pee all the time of course, knowing how impossibly difficult it was. But I managed to get myself out and into a cloudless starry night. It was freezing cold and there were dozens of practically wild dogs growling around but I was relieved to feel better and deeply grateful for having the opportunity to be there, to live that moment.

I knew I was fine when I returned to the tent and was annoyed at the fact that even though he'd proclaimed willingness to help, Sarju didn't move an inch when I obviously headed out or back into my bed for the night. I knew I was fine as soon as my mind became preoccupied with common themes, common concerns and a familiar sense of me.

"Symptoms can include headache, loss of co-ordination, weakness, and decreasing levels of consciousness including disorientation, loss of memory, hallucinations, irrational behaviour, and coma". As I read this list again, I became slightly preoccupied... what if I had actually gone beyond regular AMS and towards HACE. But I couldn't have. I wouldn't be sitting here writing this if I had...