Digital Story Festival

Essays

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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