fucking lariam

In the morning Erez told me all about it. i didn't at first put all the pieces together. my creeping anxiety that day, my unnervingly disturbed efforts to fall asleep on the bus from Delhi the night before (leading me to consume a large pack of spicy tomato chips in under 4 minutes during our pit-stop in bumblefuck, india), and the extremely strange dream I had just awoken from minutes before of my brother Michael purposely torching what was apparently my dog while I was on vacation. for the entire dream i screamed at michael and made him change the dog's bandages, while Michael laughed and rolled his eyes.

So I hadn't really put all the pieces together yet when Erez, sweaty and frightened from a night of feverish paranoia said, "hey, do you think it could be the malaria pills?"

Fucking Lariam.

Like we hadn't been warned by friends. So now I decide to actually look it up. Here's what it says in the Lonely Planet: "serious side effects are rare but include depression, anxiety, psychosis and having fits. anyone with a history of depression, anxiety, other psychological disorders or epilepsy should not take Lariam."

So basically it says, Ilana, if you're reading this, seriously, don't take Lariam.

But poor Erez. He was just another of those "rare cases" I suppose. And even now it will probably take him a few days to believe it was the pills and not his precious mind buckling under the pressure of the past few months.

So in the morning, desperate for a panacea, we decided to move out of our bright Sky House room and into a burgundy number at The Akash Deep, a hotel overlooking the plunging misty valley. The room with the view wouldn't be available for one or two more days, but we moved into a temporary room there anyway. Just to get away from those crazy thought monsters lurking in Sky House.

So now we're here. No pills, better view. It's all good. As long as we don't get bitten by a malarial mosquito in the next three months.