On October 2, 2012, during Our 5000 Kilometer Road Trip, Pat recorded in her notes that “John has been feeling a bit achy the last couple of days so he must have a touch of something.” For the rest of the trip I had some good days and some not so good days. I arrived in Lakeside sick, not a great way to start retirement.

November 9, 2012

I got worse, not better. The main symptoms were an almost total lack of appetite, weight loss and a lack of energy. Pat urged me to go to the doctor. We started looking for one and we soon found Dr. León whom I saw for the first time on October 26th. I still remember his initial reaction when he first saw me. “You are dehydrated,” he declared. Indeed, during our road trip I purposely drank less water in order to reduce the number of stops we needed to make. In hindsight, that was a serious mistake. Dr. León told me to drink lots of electrolytes, which I soon grew to dislike.

Dr. León diagnosed a viral respiratory infection and prescribed some medication. I deteriorated further and was back in his office on November 6th. This time blood tests were ordered. However, the results were normal, except for a low white blood cell count. Dr. León was puzzled, not finding anything physically wrong. He then asked me whether my condition could be mental in nature. This surprised me for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Dr. León did not know anything about my past mental health challenges. Secondly, in Canada doctors would have been slow to look for a mental health cause for a physical ailment. Dr. León diagnosed me with suffering from depression and prescribed medication accordingly.

Earlier, Pat had asked me if I was depressed. I replied that I did not think so. I knew, or thought I knew, what depression felt like, having had bouts of it for most of my life. But this felt unlike anything I had ever experienced. I did not feel sad or hopeless or anxious. Mentally I felt fine, actually quite relaxed. It felt physical, completely physical, no appetite, little energy.

In early September, I had also experienced something else for the first time, hives. That  condition flared up again from time to time. A few times the itching was almost unbearable. I had a skin cream from the drugstore that I used regularly for weeks. Strangely, since that one episode I have never again had hives.

During this strange illness, I suffered from severe heartburn. Not only did I lack appetite, it hurt to eat. Sometimes a single bit of food took considerable effort to get down. Another problem was a need to urinate two or three times every night. My iPad calendar informs me that I had several appointments with Dr. León in November and several more in December.

We enrolled in Spanish class, a morning class which was a good thing because mornings were the best part of my day. I dragged myself to class which was only a short walk from where we lived. The teacher was very nice to me because of my illness. Others in the class mistakenly concluded that I was the quiet one and that Pat was the lively one.

Pat kept up her daily walk. I would go with her for ten or fifteen minutes and then I needed to sit and rest. She continued and I joined her again on the way back. Once home, I again needed to rest. I remember my heart pounding as if I had been running.

One of my chores was to buy drinking water, usually three five gallon garrafones. This was exhausting, using all my energy for that day. Even lifting the container on to its stand was a struggle.

I remember that there were many days that by 4 o’clock in the afternoon all I wanted to do was lay on the couch.

November 1, 1012

I took more medication in six months than the total for my whole life before this illness. I was told to stay out of the sun as much as possible, wear a hat and wear long sleeves. And Dr. León sternly advised me to take one medication, the antidepressant, for a full six months even if I began to feel better. 

This was a difficult time for Pat as I lacked the energy to do much of anything. I was of very little help to her. That, plus our less than ideal accommodation, made for a difficult six months. But, again strangely, I remember this as a time of feeling almost no anxiety. It was as if I did not have enough energy even for that. 

By January I was slowly gaining weight and feeling a little better. We started increasing the length of our walks, including the three kilometers to the coffee shop in Ajijic. I remember how intimidating the hill by Roberto’s restaurant seemed. That still reminds me now how weak I was then. A year later I could easily power walk up that little hill and leave Pat in my dust.

By March I was almost fully recovered. In April we returned to Calgary as planned to again list our house for sale. I remember that April as the time when my challenge with anxiety returned, something I had not felt for about six months. My illness had been months of apathy, not even caring about being sick. But now I was back to normal, my normal. 

In December, 2013, Pat and I applied for a major medical insurance policy. On the application I needed to declare my weight loss in 2012. The insurance company requested a letter from my doctor, which Dr. León provided. The letter explicitly stated a diagnosis of depression which he had only hinted at in our face to face sessions. The insurance company was satisfied with the letter and approved my application.

A few years later I went to Dr. León for a check up. After reviewing the results of all my tests he exclaimed, “You are almost a superman!” That is what one wants to hear from a doctor. Almost everything was normal, nothing to be concerned about. Hopefully this strange illness is a once in a lifetime experience.