Firstly, the title here is not a reference to the apparent psychological state of a shady and rather unsavoury bloke in the loos of the bar JD and I went to on Friday night (although admittedly, it could well be). It is instead referring to my high altitude medical test that I had this morning.
“What did it involve?” I hear you cry. Well, surprisingly, it didn’t actually involve any running on a treadmill, or breathing air with less oxygen. Therefore, quite how I was actually tested for altitude remains something of a mystery to me. I had an ECG done, an X-Ray, blood tests, and a brief test of my eyesight, but nothing that seemed obviously useful with respect to altitude. The only part of the experience that was relevant was a piece of paper with advice for dealing with altitude written on it.
Anyway, that was how I spent this morning, before heading back to the mine with my boss, to arrive just in time for lunch. This is the final shift here before my little excursion to live in the Atacama Desert, and I’ve got a few things planned (like visiting the actual mine part of the mine – i.e. where they extract the ore, rather than just the bits around it). This shift only lasts ten days, as Thursday week is a national holiday (so I’m finishing on Wednesday week instead).