Lost days in Cuzco

There are certain words that take on a significance only when they are experienced.
"Portaging" doesn't mean too much, until you've schlepped a canoe for three km to Lake Louisa.
"Altitude" is another such word. Two, three, four thousand meters don't seem so different. My body has discovered the difference. After almost two weeks at altitudes between three and four thousand meters it has learned the hard way. I never got the usual symptoms of altitude sickness, namely head aches and nausea. It did hit me hard, lack of appetite, difficulty breathing, lethargy, and worst of all, the "runs".
During my last four days in Cuzco the TOTAL food I ate were two scrambled eggs, a tin of tuna, two mandarins, and half a small chocolate bar. In four days.
I had to rest half way when I went the twenty steps up to my room.
The cold also got to me. The temperature in my room never reached ten degrees. It was freezing.
I blamed a lot on the cold I had, but the change was amazing once I got back to Lima, and sealevel. After I arrived back in Lima I slept for six hours, and then went out to actually eat a meal, all of a six inch pizza, but I did eat all of it.
The difference in how I feel is phenomenal.
As I said the word "altitude" has a complete new meaning for me.
Two more days, and some home cooking. I haven't seen a green salad in almost a month.