Simply Sunstroke
I’m still very tired from the adventures of Saturday and Sunday, so I only want to tell this story one time.
Friday:
Akim and I loaded the SUV pretty early, but didn’t really set out to leave town till 9 AM. We took a route other than that recommended by Google and by our GPS, because the road we wanted didn’t exist when our GPS was loaded into the car. We’ll update that soon enough. Akim was all hot to drive, so I didn’t argue, just enjoyed the scenery. We stopped a few times to get drinks or use the bathrooms along the way, and arrived at the Simple Day site at… I don’t know what time, actually. Maybe, oh, 3:30 or 4:00 PM?
Akim set up the tent while I went back to town for last-minute ice purchases and some extra citronella candles. The no-see-ums and other bugs were out in force, and I always get eaten alive, so this was necessary. By the time I got back, Akim had finished the tent set-up. He took a break and I set up the cots, bedding, and arranged our living space. We were camped over by the hound coursers because last year we enjoyed their company, and didn’t regret it for an instant.
Evening dinner was Israeli salad, rice, hummus with pita for Akim, and hummus with gluten-free rice crackers for me. Plain, good, refreshing, and cool — no cooking necessary. We ate our meal, then socialized with the coursers for a bit before heading for showers and changing from mundane clothing to medieval garb. Just in time, we got back to our tent, set up the Sabbath candles/wine/bread, and made the appropriate prayers. Even after the sun set, it had to be at least 85F with an extremely high humidity. I remember praying for rain, which I figured would break the humidity, but it didn’t come.
After more socializing, we said our evening prayers and then hit the proverbial sack. At home I generally wear pajamas, but I couldn’t bear the touch of fabric in such heat, so I didn’t. I’m not sure that Akim did, either, even though he handles heat much better than I do. Hard to tell, though, since the ‘cupping’ nature of our canvas camping cots is that we can’t really touch one another without draping our arms across the hard, uncomfortable side bars. The temperature fell enough to be actually comfortable, a great physical and emotional relief, even though the humidity remained quite high.
Saturday:
I awakened at I-know-not-what-time, dressed, said morning prayers, and went straight to the bath house for morning ablutions. Once finished, I joined Akim, who had done the same thing but earlier, and the hound coursers. Akim had eaten some more of our Israeli salad for breakfast, but to me it was just too hot to eat already, so I drank a 52oz insulated mug of water while we enjoyed the Shabbat morning among our new friends. I like the coursing hounds and their humans. Good folks, every last one. Most are not concerned overmuch with garb or encampment authenticity. Or, rather, they would be except that their spare income goes to supporting their greyhounds rather than themselves, so they put together the best garb they can with whatever’s left. That’s as it should be, I feel: take care of living creatures first, and only then devote resources to appearances. Too, they haven’t all been quick to settle on specific times and places within our period of study, and instead they’ll jump from time to time and place to place depending on what they have, what interests them in a given moment, and what the weather’s like. It’s not the route everyone would choose, but for them it works nicely, so I can only judge them with kindness. They’re really delightful to be around.
Akim and I have been looking long and hard for services we could perform at events, which tend to mostly take place on the Jewish Sabbath and therefore our activities are severely curtailed. Friday during social time, Mistress Rhiannon Siobhan Shynane mentioned that though they had people to clean up after lunch, they still needed two people to serve. We looked at one another and both decided that yes, we could do that without issue. So we headed to the lunch pavilion at about 10:15 or so, and started setting up and serving.
You know how when you’re sick, you’re completely rational, reasonable, and intelligent, while all around you there are overreacting idiots who keep squawking nonsensical stuff? Yeah, that’s what happened to me. I felt a little nauseous, I told Akim, but at least the heat had really broken nicely, and I wasn’t quite so sweaty, which was nice. Akim glanced at me and then shouted, “D’VORAH SIT YOUR @$$ DOWN RIGHT NOW.” From that moment on, my life consisted of at least a dozen people shouting nonsense at me, trying to undress me, force-feeding me with gallon upon gallon of water and fruity punch (which was delicious, but I was utterly stuffed and my belly actually hurt from the icy cold feel of the liquid they kept forcing me to drink), asking me when was the last time I went to the bathroom and/or insisting I should try to go right now, pouring water on me — alternating ice cold with boiling hot, which they all insisted was lukewarm and/or tepid — and demanding answers to ridiculous questions. Complete strangers, most of them. Only Akim was really recognizable, though there was one person named Jane that looked vaguely familiar. I kept asking what in the world was going on, why there was such a fuss, why everyone was angry at me, and why they couldn’t all just leave me alone and let me either sit down or get back to work as I’d promised.
Everyone ELSE, mind you, has a different story. Akim says that I complained of nausea, but in the hottest part of the day insisted that it was cold, and I had stopped producing sweat. He recognized this as heat stroke and suggested that I sit down, drink something. He told the Sternfeld chatelaine and her husband — lovely folks, by the way — that he needed a moment to take care of me, and that was when people looked and realized that my beet-red color wasn’t from a sunburn. When I complained at how cold it was, apparently heat was pouring off me in waves, and it burned his hand to touch my face. They kept pouring water over my head wrap, and could actually see steam evaporating slowly from me; they couldn’t keep me wet and cool. Several people escorted me back to the hound camp, where several angels — a female nurse, female EMT, female flight attendant with emergency-in-flight training, and two male ex-military folks — continued pouring water over me and into me, and offering me Pedialyte until I finally did what they were telling me to do. At the time they were perfect strangers to me, though when I had recovered somewhat, they turned into the same hound camp folks among whom I’d spent a day already — Caitlin the Red (the one I insisted was Jane), Juliana, Fiona, Corin, Cynwreg, Rodrigo, Matthias, Aidan, Torvall, Thomas, Amalie, and a lovely man in a purple tunic whose name I forget but whose face I doubt I ever will. They took my coat off me, which was really too heavy to wear to such a hot event. They tried to take my head wrap, but I shrieked and cried, so they simply loosened it and left my head nominally covered for the sake of modesty; they also sent the men away, though I didn’t realize that until later. I was left in light muslin tunic, trousers, and barely-still-on head wrap. They tell me that I alternated between being beet red and being ashy grey-white, because my blood vessels’ capillary action was impaired just as much as my inability to sweat or urinate. I’m told that instead of asking intelligent, reasonable questions, all I could manage was “What’s happening?” and “Akim?” Later, someone told me it looked as though I had an entire haram of women treating me like some big-shot empress or something. The head chirurgeon and the event autocrat were among them too, both very concerned and very gentle; that much I did notice, but I didn’t notice much else that survived in clear mental images for me. I’ve no doubt that the rest of them won’t forget it, though. One thing I do remember is the constant talk of emergency rooms, and constantly protesting that it wasn’t serious enough for that yet, for violating the Sabbath by driving, carrying money, or signing papers. Only if my life or health was in serious danger would that have been appropriate. I of course had no idea at the time that that was exactly what was in danger.
I have no idea how long it took before I finally started understanding what was being said to me, but I know that it was even longer before I was able to make my answers understood. When finally I went to the bathroom — which is supposed to be private, personal me-time — the whole camp needed to know about it, or they wouldn’t let it go. I know it’s for a medical reason now, but at the time I was still fog-minded enough to consider it no one’s business and very intrusive. There are still images in my mind, but I don’t know if those images are of things that happened, or “only the fatal vision[s] of a heat-oppressed brain.” I just know that there was a very real danger of permanent damage or death, and these wonderful people averted that danger in spite of my protestations and objections. I will always, always feed them and be grateful to them.
At about 4:30 PM, everyone agreed that while I was still foggy-minded, I could probably be allowed to go to court. “Because what if you get called up? Didn’t you enter the A&S competition?” someone said. “I won’t win,” I assured them all, “but if I do, I’ll probably do a chicken-dance.” I was in no danger of that, I knew, but suddenly they were all saying that I had PROMISED to do the chicken-dance, so I laughed and said sure.
Wouldn’t you know it, I did get called up. I’d won 4th place in the A&S competition. Just as I was on my way up, I heard my entire encampment singing what I think of as a German song because I heard it at Oktoberfests growing up. I couldn’t figure out what that was about, until I heard Akim yelling, “Chicken dance!” Traitorous husband! But at least I knew what was going on now. I laughed, a bit light-headed and confused. I mean, this wasn’t sitting around in camp, this was COURT. I wanted to go up with all solemnity and there they were, singing this polka (which as it turns out isn’t a German dance song, it’s a Polish dance song, hence the name). I was saved by His Majesty, who said he hoped I wouldn’t do the dance. Bless the man. I promised him, “For your pleasure, your majesty, I won’t do the dance here.” Then I got my prize from Mistress Rhiannon and sat back down.
Back at camp, everyone was disappointed, but I reminded them that I’d said probably, and I’d never said I would do the thing in court. Also, that I had meant to just strut around like a chicken, not do some “German” dance (I was at this time corrected — it’s a Polish dance, hence the name) that I didn’t even know. Someone taught me the dance, and I did it, to much applause (and a honk and thumbs up from someone in a car nearby), and thus I discharged my obligation.
The rest of the evening was, thank G*D, largely uneventful. We shared our Israeli salad, rice, hummus, and pita with everyone, because we’d brought too much as usual. They passed around bottles of this and that, and we each took a taste of spiced rum (only a bit, because no one wanted to see any more heat-drama, especially not alcohol-enhanced). After sunset, Akim and I mentioned we were going to make havdalah, the ceremony that brings an official end to the Sabbath and begins the six-day work week again. To our surprise, almost everyone in camp wanted to come with us for it, except two or three that were too tired, so we gathered up for the ceremony just outside our tent. It’s very short, just lighting a candle, sniffing spices, sipping wine (grape juice), and saying a couple of blessings. Once that was over, we all sat back down and socialized a bit more. Then we both showered (and by the way, I have a personal grudge against whoever urinated in the women’s shower, but at least I had my plastic shower shoes) and went to bed.
Sunday:
Overnight it had rained a little, and while the later day would prove to be almost as hot as the days before, morning was actually cool. Akim and I spent a grateful morning fielding questions: Yes, we have breakfast food; would you like some? Thank you, I’m feeling much better, thanks to everyone around me who gave me such good care and help. No, we have to leave by ten at the latest, but let’s exchange emails. We helped clean up the hound camp, packed up our own things, sat down to socialize more.
Just before we left, Cynwreg beckoned us over to speak with him. I won’t say what he said, but it touched our hearts. We made sure first that it was allowed for a person to be in more than one household, and then asked him if he would allow us to consider him our tattie, our little father (Yiddish, not really persona-appropriate for us, but he understood the fondness expressed in the word). He said yes. He also gave me a necklace that he’d been wearing for many years, a six-pointed star surrounded by metal and red-amber beads. I shall wear it often and think fondly of him.
I drove the first hour of the trip home, thinking I was fine. Then Akim noticed that I had no facial expression at all; I was devoting all my energy to road-concentration and none to conversation or expression. He very correctly said, “Pull over right now, sweetie.” I did, and he took over the driving. I don’t remember much after that; apparently I spent the rest of the ride asleep.
We got home, unloaded the car (mostly Akim, bless his heart), showered, sat down with carefully-prepared leftovers, BIG cold drinks, and our beloved feline daughters on our laps. Home.