Due to the altitude an ever decreasing supply of oxygen was reaching my brain. My mind was playing tricks on me. Denise got alarmed. She took me to see a doctor. A very nice man who arrived on a bicycle, made a routine five minute check up, and then proceeded to charge me more than a brain specialist at the Mayo Clinic would have. As a safety measure he also suggested I rent from him an oxygen tank to take back to my room, and added that if I was not better by the following morning that I should get a blood test, a chest X-ray, and stool analysis. A real modern day country doctor who understands that a little bit of business combined with little medicine is not a bad practice at all.

I felt the time had come to make some hard choices. I would leave Crested Butte as soon as possible. The story tellers were magnificent, but my health wasn't.

Sunday the 15th
I sleep with great excitement, oxygen is now being pumped into my brain at a constant rate. With all those pain killers I'm surprised I still have a migraine. The day starts early, the valve on the tank tells me I have less than a quarter tank left between now and my departure. It's almost seven in the morning. I'm really glad to be leaving. I'm really sad to be leaving. I wanted to work with Crystal Waters to learn from her, I wanted to chat more with Hal Josephson, Cynthia Decker and Patrick Milligan, but there was no more time.

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