I was very tired. I would go out for a walk. Sit down on a bench. Two or three hours later I would get up not realizing how much time had passed.
I felt cold, very cold, and would wear a pullover or jacket. This in Saigon where a shirt was excessive.
I suffered from constant diarrhea. Tests at the hospital. Nothing. I convinced myself that I had dysentary. I didn't but any little sickness would have finished me. I became very thin and lost far too much weight.
I tried to work but didn't have the energy to do more than an hour or two each day.
My nerves became dodgy. I took to the habit of stopping by a pharmacy each evening and buying one tablet of valium.
I had reached a low point in my life. I took little interest in what was going on around me. I still calculated the next major offensive would be in the Spring of 1976.
The old American bases were becoming run down. I believe a lot of equipment went missing.
Hospital had indeed been a holiday. Here I was, technically no longer sick, but slowly dying. This went on for week after week until three or four months had passed.