Well, perhaps I am, but with good reason. You see, in possibly one of the world’s most profound and romantic displays of love, ever, my boyfriend bought me Malarone for my brithday.
That’s a common malaria prophylaxis for the tropical zone unititiated. Yes, an over-the-counter, blister packaged, international pharmaceutical company-produced anti-malarial. Giftwrap and card not included.
The swoon-inducing gesture was the result of a few lukewarm exchanges brought about by my stubborn refusal to heed the wishy-washy, mixed and often confused signals from the FCO, NHS, Indian Government and whomever else, on the subject of malaria in India. The disease definitely exists in India – and you hear horror stories of exceptionally unlucky businessmen contracting malaria after single bites in the transfer hall of Mumbai airport – but not in many tourist areas, not in the winter when there are no mozzies around and certainly not to the extent that vigilant pill-popping is required. A mozzie coil and some good midgie spray always seem a best first port of call before moving on to the hard grade-A stuff.
Phsyiology and goeography aside, my own choices, the lessons I’ve learnt, places I’ve visited, people I’ve learnt to trust, those millions of scenarios and circumstances that have informed my very own view on the world have made me believe that these are very personal, individual decisions.
And, as a grown adult, I am willing to gamble on the likelihood of that one-in-a-million chance of a mosquito landing on that one-in-a-billion strip of pink, wintry flesh. Slim to none.
Nevertheless, presented to me the neat package of drugs was. Well, it’s the thought that counts.
It’s the same principal as choosing not to wear a helmet, have brakes fitted or use gears when riding a bike through central London. For example. I don’t choose those things, because I am too scared of the wrath I’d meet (from my family who gave me my very uncool bike) if I ever came a cropper on a city street. But… you know who you are. And the flowers are lovely.