The Life of A...

Cape black-backed jackals (Lupulella mesomelas mesomelas) Okavango Delta, Botswana

Which doesn’t sound so bad on its own, but at sixteen my immune system collapsed, and the previous mild case of chickenpox I had at nine suddenly gave me a violent and atypical case of shingles. My whole damn body was covered in pustules, even down my throat. Wherever there was skin, it was covered in pox. I nearly died. The doctors told my mother if she had waited just two more hours to get me to the hospital in Indy (my hometown hospital refused to even give me an E.R. bed ‘because it’s just chickenpox’, despite our pleas that I was immunocompromised), I would have died.

I was out of school for three months with a PICC line going straight to my heart pumping acyclovir into me even after I was discharged from the PICU. I never recovered academically and I ended up forced out of school the next year because they hated that I was wrecking attendance records with my frequent illnesses.

It’s only in the last five years that most of the pox scars have faded. I was sixteen then. I’m thirty now.

People/parents love to think that chickenpox is a normal and harmless part of childhood, almost a right of passage. Oh it’s just a week or so if mild itching, life will go on. No need to get my child vaccinated. Hell, let’s intentionally infect our young child by hosting chickenpox party! Better to have it at a young age, they say! But I wasn’t immunocompromised yet when I got chickenpox at 9. And at sixteen that same “harmless” virus latent within me nearly killed me. And even with the basic chickenpox, things can and have gone catastrophically wrong. Your perfectly healthy kid might come into contact with another kid on chemo. Suddenly that kid can die just like I almost did. Even your perfectly healthy kid can have a freak reaction and be killed by chickenpox.

Becoming more comfortable with little illegal activities makes you more comfortable with bigger more important illegal activities. Additionally, it is crucial to build a wall of silence. Nobody talks everybody walks.

People who give out food without a permit, hold a march without a permit, grow a garden without a permit, are more likely to be people you could turn to to work with on preventing an eviction, or keeping people out of cop hands, or helping your friend Jane get crucial healthcare when it’s not legal in your state.

Communities comfortable with these acts won’t call the cops, and then nobody knows that it’s happening.

dinosaur animatronics my beloved

Ranger Rick's Nature Magazine; July 1979 edition.

He added, after a pause: “Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.”