I was bedridden for two weeks, and over the course of my illness I often saw shadows of the prophets, or felt flickering movements at the periphery of my vision. And my mother, who cared for me during my illness, spoke often of the strange cast that would come over my face as I lay sleeping, and how, a few minutes later, my lips would part, and the same low tone would rise from deep in my chest, sometimes unbroken for hours.

The tonic took hold, though, and I recovered as the weeks passed. By late November, I was able to get up and walk around the house, and after the first week of December, after the first snow had fallen and melted, I was back to my original strength.