Heading out West
Normally, Mike is the official fire starter,
but as you may be able to see, he was struggling. By God's grace (and nearly an entire roll of toilet paper), Nathanael & Halle got a roaring fire going that kept up through the night & kept the critters away.
We were all feeling a bit under from the altitude, we all had a headache in one form or another, some shortness of breath, and fairly suppressed appetites. Halle & Nathanael were otherwise relatively unaffected, I had some nausea going on but as the evening progressed, we became more & more concerned about Mike.
His symptoms were magnified compared to our own. Healthy doses of ibuprofen weren't staving off his headache, his stomach wouldn't settle, he felt unwell, he simply wasn't acting like himself. Normally a chill guy without much concern, he communicated to the group how terrible he felt, including dizziness at any kind of exertion. We tried to encourage fluids, but due to stomach upset, he was hesitant to take much in, which raised our concern further.
It is a powerful thing, being in the middle of nowhere, with no communication to the outside world, when someone begins to fall ill. We dared not communicate it out loud, but zipping ourselves into the tent that night, we were all running through emergency scenarios in our minds and how we would handle the potential of further decline.
By a stroke of providence, I had 8 mg of zofran zydis in my pack. I gave half to Mike, we laid hands and prayed, all wondering what the next day would bring, believing God would continue to protect us.
Normally, Mike is the official fire starter,
but as you may be able to see, he was struggling. By God's grace (and nearly an entire roll of toilet paper), Nathanael & Halle got a roaring fire going that kept up through the night & kept the critters away.
We were all feeling a bit under from the altitude, we all had a headache in one form or another, some shortness of breath, and fairly suppressed appetites. Halle & Nathanael were otherwise relatively unaffected, I had some nausea going on but as the evening progressed, we became more & more concerned about Mike.
His symptoms were magnified compared to our own. Healthy doses of ibuprofen weren't staving off his headache, his stomach wouldn't settle, he felt unwell, he simply wasn't acting like himself. Normally a chill guy without much concern, he communicated to the group how terrible he felt, including dizziness at any kind of exertion. We tried to encourage fluids, but due to stomach upset, he was hesitant to take much in, which raised our concern further.
It is a powerful thing, being in the middle of nowhere, with no communication to the outside world, when someone begins to fall ill. We dared not communicate it out loud, but zipping ourselves into the tent that night, we were all running through emergency scenarios in our minds and how we would handle the potential of further decline.
By a stroke of providence, I had 8 mg of zofran zydis in my pack. I gave half to Mike, we laid hands and prayed, all wondering what the next day would bring, believing God would continue to protect us.