My next appointment with Doctor Salim is in five weeks. I’ve set that as a benchmark for how long I’ll tolerate feeling like a walking vomit factory. If it goes beyond that, I may simply let the illness take me. I’ll go to the seaside like all the sick or slightly insane women used to, and I’ll will myself to either be done with it or enjoy an early grave. Or, perhaps, I’ll ask Doctor Salim to prescribe that medicine she suggested. One of those two things.
