A brief vignette on altitude sickness:

On Tuesday, over one month after arriving at 12,000 feet, I got it. More appropriately: it got me.

Here is what my day looked like:
4:30a wake up gasping and so nauseous that I can only lay in a curled up position.
6:30a drag myself to the bathroom (for no reason) and turn the heater on.
7:30a A little dizzy and still nauseous, force myself to take a warm shower and eat some crackers and drink warm water.
9:30a Teach class.
11:30a Stumble back to the apartment, quite queasy with no idea what's wrong with me. I feel bad but not deathly. Talk to teammate who diagnosis me with altitude sickness: basically my body is not able to get the oxygen it needs. The prescription: rest.
12:30p Slowly slowly walk across the street to buy a liter of Sprite and some more crackers. Slowly slowly walk back.
1:30p Pull all the heavy blankets out from the wardrobe, turn the heater up full blast, put on extra socks and thick pajamas, cocoon myself in my bed with the Word, the Sprite, and the crackers close at hand. Feeling worse now than when I woke up this morning. Think dizzy but not able to faint, nauseous but not able to throw up, weak and tired but not able to sleep.
2:30p "sleep"
4:30p wake up, eat crackers, drink Sprite and water. Go back to sleep.
7:00p wake up, eat crackers, drink Sprite and water. Use bathroom. Go back to sleep.
9:30p repeat.
11:45p wake up, way too hot, turn off the heater, crack the window, take off the socks and go back to sleep.
7:15a wake up. Feeling ten thousand times better but still weak (probably from the diet of simple carbs and water). Get ready for class.

Now that I'm back to normal, it's hard to remember how bad I felt.

The moral of this story: oxygen, it does a body good.