Ummm… okay… so my plans have just shattered, splattered, fallen to pieces on the floor and I’m thinking… what better way to capture the moment than by sharing it all with you?! Ready for this? Oh my goodness.
Left my latest and greatest home at the lovely hour of 4am to start the crammed bus journey from Tofo to Maputo. Maputo is the big city where I was to wrap it all up and start the next part of my adventures. The bus ride is a miserable one; people and possessions piled in layers, typical African style, unable to move, get comfortable, or generally breathe for a good solid 8 – 9 hours with the heat and the smells becoming more and more oppressive as the sun rises higher in the sky. It’s a rite of passage here and we all sympathize with locals and travelers alike who must participate in this often unavoidable evil . Got through it with minimal discomfort or delay, got into my hostel, and headed out for the long walk to the Canadian High Commission to pick up my new passport (which had finally arrived after MUCH hassle and hysteria). New passport in hand, plane ticket printed off before I left Tofo and I was feeling pretty happy that I had just experienced a fairly successful day considering where I am. The last chore left was to exchange money and I have a whole day and a half to do it before I’m due to get on my flight. Loads of time to waste. Loads.
Got online around 7pm tonight to catch up on what I’ve missed over the last couple of days and got the following email:
Dear Janice,
I am sorry to inform you that the position I have offered you as teacher at the British International School Ghana is no longer available.
I was just informed this morning, that the school has undergone new management changes, and they have decided that no new teachers are needed at the present.
I am truly sorry for all the inconvenience that this has caused you and I was just as shocked and upset as you probably are now with this decision. Any compensation for either visas or purchased tickets may be dealt with with the school directly, contacts below.
Read it over and over and over. This can’t be real. This must be a joke. I’ve just quit my job, arrived in Maputo TODAY, am set to fly in less than 48 hours, and I have just received this little tidbit of “by the way” news sent a few hours earlier. WTF? was repeated in my head several times, then I just started laughing. Laughing because at this point, what else can I do? I have no job, have no possibility to change the plane tickets without incurring astronomical fees, and now, apparently, nowhere to go to. Oh, and since travel around Africa is ridiculously expensive, my tickets to get from here to Florida to visit the folks and then back to Ghana to start what I assumed was to be my new life… just under $3000. Brand new credit card is properly worked in but now no way to pay it off. Gulp. Again, WTF?! Oh, I mean… Bahahahaha! OF COURSE the job is “no longer available”, of course. I’ve been in Africa for 15 months… how on EARTH did I think that this was really going to come together?! Silly me, silly, silly me.
The journey back from Mozambique was thankfully, blissfully uneventful. Two very quick little stops and the big flight, from Johannesburg to Atlanta, turned out to be only 16 & ½ hrs instead of 17 & ½ hrs. I was talking to Nicola just before I left and had, for the first time, really looked at the details of my flights; can planes really stay in the air for 17 & ½ hrs?!?! I mean, don’t they have to refuel or get more supplies or SOMETHING?! For all of the travelling I’ve been fortunate enough to have done, I’m still apparently very, very dumb. But yeah, window seats the whole way (thanks for double checking mom!) and that long haul flight was pretty darn impressive. When was the last time you heard anyone have something good to say about airlines or flying in general? Well sit up and take note people! Today is the day! Flew Delta, in one of their new 777s (I think. I really don’t have a clue.) It was one of those big ole planes with three rows of three across in each one, every seat full. You know, those planes where if it goes down, the fatality numbers will be so high that it WILL make international news for at least one day. Yeah, I think about those things. Seats were bigger than I remember, and really kinda comfy. At this point, my life of African depravity was really paying off.
The little movie/entertainment thingy jiggy that’s in the back of the seat in front of you had a whole library of movies, TV shows, music, games and all kinds of things to play with! I’ve had the toy before on planes, but this one was really cool! Really! So I watched movies and listened to tunes and soaked up media luxuries that I haven’t had in such a long time. While I was thoroughly pleased with my travel turn of events, I did feel badly for the couple who was sitting in the aisle and middle seats alongside me. 16 & ½ hrs people… 1. I have trouble sitting still for any length of time if there IS the possibility to move, and 2. I have to pee A LOT! If I drink one litre of water, I will pee out two litres… seriously! Anyone who has done any road tripping with me can verify this (right Dye family?) I will purposely flirt with the ails of dehydration to avoid inconveniencing travel mates with the annoying and incessant pee breaks but on a plane, sorry folks, I gulp as much water as I can and I gotta get out of my seat. OH! I forgot to tell you about the check in BEFORE the 16 & ½ hr flight (can you tell that I still think this was an extremely long period of time to be suspended in mid air?!)
So yay! Jo-burg airport is lovely. Sad that I’ve been rural for so long that I was gleefully overwhelmed with how posh I thought the AIRPORT was!!! (That being said, it WAS just all dolled up to accommodate the World Cup last year so yeah, it was kinda posh) Ran into a friend from Tofo in the airport so that made it all the better as we rushed about in a last minute little visit. Okay. Arrive at my departure gate and see these two enormously long lines just to get INTO the sitting area. *sigh* Whatever. I’m getting good at waiting. Plop my stuff down in one line and the man behind me gently points out that I’m in the wrong “gender sensitive” line. Pardon? Oh. One line for ladies, one line for men. Ummm… I’m not flying into Saudi, I’m flying into the USA. I look ahead to see pat down searches before entering the ALREADY SECURE gate area. Are you kidding me? I’ve been through scanners and gate checks, simply walked from one plane to the next and oh yeah, apparently managed to McGyver myself a home-made nuclear bomb from chewing gum wrappers and toothpicks in the meantime. Seriously people… come on! So pat, pat, pat, cheap little feel up, take away all water bottles if you don’t have a receipt (which of course no one does because who the hell GETS and then KEEPS their receipt for a bottle of water?!?!), carryon bags searched, ID needed before stepping on to the plane itself after already presenting it with our boarding pass and then we are herded onto the jumbo jet. Lucky it was a nice plane because just there were some seriously grouchy people after that little boarding process. I was just giddy to be on the move in something that wasn’t held together with rust, paint chips, bits of string, and superglue. FANNN – CY!
Oooooo! Speaking of fancy… the food! Again folks, when was the last time that you heard people excited about air travel yet here it is?! The food was SO good and came so often that I even turned stuff down. No kidding! Shocking for those of you who know me and my bizarre need for food even though I’m not the least bit hungry. But yeah, the food was incredible. Maybe because I’ve not seen much of what they were serving for quite some time, maybe because I love all things “mini” (mini bottles of condiments, mini portions of food packaging, mini sized serving dishes, etc), maybe I was just delusional but I was full, full, FULL and still they were bringing more. Don’t know about the little domestic flights but people, if ever you need to fly for the majority of an entire day somewhere across the world, Delta is the way to go. (Think I can get a spokesperson gig to tide me over until I find work?)
Loved the latest and greatest modern travel and avoided all thoughts of now having nothing to do with my life for the moment. Unemployed, homeless, and wandering… wow… what aspirations, what lofty goals, what a success story! *sigh* Please don’t judge me. I keep telling myself that I’m just “on holiday”.
Since I’ve settled into my parents’ winter time retirement village home, I’ve been corresponding with the school in Ghana in attempts to recover some of the insane flight bills I’ve racked up making plans to get there. The school says that the company will reimburse me for my expenses, I’ve cancelled what I could and sent receipts, but am still sitting, waiting, hoping that I’m not being hopelessly naïve in all of this. Am I being naïve? Should we place bets on if I’ll receive any compensation? Maybe I can pay off some of my bills with the winnings? Takers? Please? Oh love a duck… I’m not getting any money back, am I?
So here I sit, in this very lovely “age qualified” community (which is really, REALLY cute!) trying to figure out what’s next. I am missing Africa desperately and the pain is a little sharper knowing that I didn’t even consider saying goodbye as I had planned to be back in a couple of weeks. But it all happens for a reason, my universe keeps making way for my continued adventures, and I simply have to look at this as a lesson in patience. Right? Right. Always more adventure. Enough with the planning, we’ll just have to see what comes next. Africa is still there and I will find my way back… eventually. Think there are any ancient village chiefs out there who might be interested in a white wife? Betcha I can find one….
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Malaria is messy
I believe in the ability to jinx myself; 100%, sure as the sun will come up tomorrow, completely, utterly, totally, absolutely. And I jinxed myself. Who foolishly and smugly bragged that after my first successful journey in Africa, I walked away still immune to malaria? Me. Who got knocked flat on her smug little ass less than what? two weeks after posting that ridiculous, over-inflated claim? Oh yeah folks, that would be me. So thank you universe, for putting me in my place and showing me who is boss. You win, yet again. I got malaria.
It started so simply. A few days of increasing lower back pain. At first it was annoying and easy enough to dismiss. On the Tuesday, it started to catch my breath a bit as the pain would come in sharper waves before it faded. A co-worker and I chatted about it, thinking maybe a kidney infection as there were no other symptoms and the pain had been consistent over the past couple of days. He was going to find me some incredibly effective, ultimately disgusting local herbs that work wonders on curing kidney illnesses. I was popping Tylenol. By Wednesday, the “episodes” had me bent in half, clutching my lower back with one hand and the nearest stable surface with the other while I gasped for breath and yelped with the pain that it caused to take a deep breath. I looked like an 85 year old woman. Comical. Pathetic. I have the day off tomorrow, I’ll sort something out then.
Thursday, day off, arrived for a morning dive. Weeds, I mean herbs, HERBS were presented, smelling horridly effective and I said I would make them into tea after my dive.
*** tangent topic*** broke my fin strap just before rolling off the boat for the dive, did the whole thing with one fin… COMPLETE SPAZZ! But a one-fin dive is still better than no dive at all!***
Okay, back on track. After the dive, I was pretty exhausted but had been feeling tired all week, chalked it up to the dive, and dismissed it, along with the going on day 4 stitch in my side kidney pain. A friend of mine had offered me a lift into town and I had things to do – let’s get a move on! Went to town to run a few errands (like pick up a care & love parcel from mom & dad that saved my life!!!) and met back up with my friend in the central market. I was simply standing there, talking to her, when my power went out. Someone flicked a switch, pulled the plug, dropped the curtain, something, but in an instant, I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t lift my arms and could barely hold my head up. I had to sit down. I dragged myself to sit on the curb by the car and couldn’t keep my eyes open as I dropped my head into my arms wrapped around my knees. What the hell was going on here? Two local kids came by asking for money, I offered to give one some if he could go get me a bottle of water, I could barely speak. My friend came back and we made our way home.
Sitting in the car, I felt a bit better. I leaned my head back and tried to talk but my tongue didn’t feel right, it was too big, the words were getting all mumbled up and it was taking forever to get my thoughts out. I sounded drunk or like I should have been wearing a special ed helmet. I was a bit of a mess. Again, just thought I was maybe exhausted from the week and the heat and the dive and simply needed a nap. And in the back of my mind, I was thinking that maybe I really did have a kidney infection and I needed to sort this out.
As luck would have it, I had been house-sitting again at a house that is a two minute walk from my dive shop. I dragged myself into the house, flopped into bed, then had the unusual sense to check my temperature before I lost complete conscious thought. 38.8C. Texted Nicola at work to see what normal was, 36.4 – 37.4C. Oh. Fever. But I’ll figure it out later. I MUST sleep. Out.
Nicola came by after work, I thought I had been asleep for maybe half an hour, but apparently I didn’t move for several. Giggled at the mess of my current state of appearance, pillow wrinkled face and wicked wild hair, and assured her I was fine. She didn’t believe me. Janice, look at you, you have malaria. Oh don’t be ridiculous. Took my temperature again. 39.2C. Shit. That’s not good. Aching everywhere, was struggling to move, but again, just thought it was because I had been sleeping funny and diving with one fin earlier. Nicola had a horrendous bout of malaria a few months ago and she was serious… I had malaria. Nope. Impossible.
Her boyfriend Hennie arrived shortly after. South African sweetheart who really and truly can do absolutely anything you would ever possibly need to survive anywhere under any circumstances EVER. He took one look at me, we check-listed the symptoms, yup, malaria. Oh my gosh you guys! I feel like hell but I don’t have malaria! Back and forth we lob the arguments but ultimately, it was too late to go get tested so there was nothing to do but get through the night and see how things look in the morning. I’ll be fine, I just need sleep. Wow. Sheesh! I’m FINE!
The full body pain took my breath away, the fever stuck, and I drifted in & out until the sun came up. I took Tylenol to try to break the fever and deal with the pain but it barely touched either and I could feel the intensity of each one creeping its way back up as the pills faded from my system. It was fascinating. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t lift my head, my kidney pain now felt like a hatchet in my side, I just couldn’t control what was happening to me. Nicola checked in again in the morning and arranged for a friend of ours to take me to get a malaria test. (If you can’t tell by now, she truly is my guardian angel!) I HAD to have a shower but every moment was in slow motion, focused and deliberate, every movement sent varying coloured flashes of pain to my head that I couldn’t clear. It was all so foreign to me. I just want to get stuff done.
First stop at a local clinic, no tests, next place, finger prick test. Local clinic means small concrete building on the side of a main road with moms and sick babies sitting on every available bit of space and random puddles of who knows what here and there that I just couldn’t think about. I didn’t register the condition of any of them or the clinics, I was blind with my pain by this point. Test… negative. See! Told you guys! Umm… Janice, did you take any meds this morning? Of course I did! Yeah, pain / fever meds apparently block malaria tests. *sigh* Whatever. It’s a kidney infection. Please take me home. I need to go to bed. Dropped into bed, moaning and whimpering like a pathetic and helpless wimp, still insisting I didn’t have malaria. Passed out. Apparently for hours again. Somewhere in my haze, checked temperature again, still up at 39C, took more Tylenol with monumental effort, faded. Awoke half hour later to the piercing ring of my mobile, we’re coming to get you again, this time we’re going to the hospital. I mumbled some kind of consent, was piled back in a car and off we went. Somewhere closer to town, when I began to focus my eyes, I shared the obvious, I had just taken painkillers before they came to get me because I didn’t know they were coming to get me. Well, let’s try anyway.
Local icky hospital. Finger prick test. Negative. Ratted me out for taking the pills, gave me a packet of malaria meds and told me to take them if fever didn’t break. Fine, fine, whatever, bed please. Please. So much pain. Please. We went home, told Nicola, stuck to my kidney infection story, she brought me some industrial strength amoxicillin we had at the dive shop, I agreed to start them the next day. Everyone insisted it was malaria. It was so obvious it was malaria. I was refusing to believe it was malaria. Nicola was going to kill me. But she was still my guardian angel taking ridiculously good care of me.
I shivered and sweated and sobbed through another fever driven, pain-filled night then started the amoxicillin and ibuprofen, instead of Tylenol the next day. Minor improvement but fever spiked at 39.7C and somewhere in the back of my stubborn mule brain, I had to concede. My fingernails hurt, my teeth hurt, my eyeballs hurt, my HAIR hurt, (I kid you not!) and the headaches were just becoming unbearable. I was a mess. I had to move out of the house I was sitting for and into Nicola’s house so packed up my stuff in bits and pieces, was moved into her place at the end of the day and was done. Completely done. We passed by work on the way to her house and the manager and owner were there. I was given a proper and complete bollocking, told I was being absolutely reckless with my life, that the finger prick tests were useless, that all of them who have lived here for years with far too much malaria experience knew exactly what they were looking at when they saw me, and that death was my next option. Seriously. I felt like a child being scolded by the principal, and then I got a bit scared. Heads were shaking as “cerebral malaria” was thrown in as part of the telling off. Gulp. People die from malaria here all the time, even after they take the meds. I didn’t want the drama.
Woke up the next morning after my third miserable night and whimpered my defeat… I’m ready to take the malaria medicine now. Nicola made me so very comfortable in her home but I think she was ready to slap me. Poor girl.
I was continuing with the regular doses of amoxicillin and ibuprofen and I swear, once the first dose of the malaria meds kicked in, the clouds lifted. I could see clearly, without the blurs and flashes of colour and piercing pain, I started to get hungry, the first time in four days, I could stand up straight, I could stay awake for more than 30 minutes and have a proper conversation, and I could walk without feeling like the world was going to slide out from under me. After the first dose. Ummm… okay, yeah, I should have done this four days ago. But I was convinced it wasn’t malaria. I wasn’t vomiting, I was tolerating the pain (barely, but I’m a baby!), I felt horrible but not quite on death’s door, and most importantly - I’m supposed to be immune to malaria damnit! Apparently not.
Quick recovery once I stopped being so bloody stubborn but still struggling with being exhausted all of the time. Not handling that well at all as I have so many things I want and need to do before I leave. That, and I’m not so good at sitting still at the best of times anyway. All in all though, I was a very lucky girl. Nicola and Hennie were regular little nurse maids, sweet friends got me to the hospital without having to endure the truly agonizing experience of a chappa (local mini bus) ride, I got loads of love and sympathy messages, and I responded really well to the meds, bouncing back super quickly. A lucky girl indeed! How people get through it without medication or the comforts that I did is beyond me, and I’m sure I had a very mild case of it.
As I’m coming up on the miserable malaria bits being a distant memory and the after effects simply being annoying, I can see very clearly how this came to be. Yes, yes there was some little mosquito biatch who was after my blood, but more than that, I’ve had a very emotional month and obviously didn’t control my stress as well as I should have. With a very special person leaving my life and then the process of leaving a job and a place that I’ve come to love very much, I know I became overwhelmed. Still smiley and put together on the outside, but it’s that inside stuff that messes things up. So lesson learned, just get over it, and while I can’t claim to be immune to malaria, I will try to keep my stats down to just this once. It was a week of learning and I march on. Malaria is pretty miserable folks. Trust me.
Countdown is here. My last day of work will be Saturday the 19th, I will head down to the city of Maputo to try to collect my new passport on the 22nd, I fly out of Africa on the 24th, and will be on American soil on the 25th. A little sad that I won’t be able to make my visit to mom and dad in Canada but getting more and more excited everyday… mostly about dumb things like driving a car, nice comfy linen, ridiculous amounts of familiar food, and clean feet at any given time. It’s going to amazing. If anyone wants to come to visit Florida, just outside of Tampa, I’ll be the one running around like a loon, acting like a sugar-hyped tourist, and soaking up everything that we love to hate about Western living, from March 25 – April 14. Come and see me before I disappear into the African wild once again. Well, okay, maybe not the wild, but still Africa.
It started so simply. A few days of increasing lower back pain. At first it was annoying and easy enough to dismiss. On the Tuesday, it started to catch my breath a bit as the pain would come in sharper waves before it faded. A co-worker and I chatted about it, thinking maybe a kidney infection as there were no other symptoms and the pain had been consistent over the past couple of days. He was going to find me some incredibly effective, ultimately disgusting local herbs that work wonders on curing kidney illnesses. I was popping Tylenol. By Wednesday, the “episodes” had me bent in half, clutching my lower back with one hand and the nearest stable surface with the other while I gasped for breath and yelped with the pain that it caused to take a deep breath. I looked like an 85 year old woman. Comical. Pathetic. I have the day off tomorrow, I’ll sort something out then.
Thursday, day off, arrived for a morning dive. Weeds, I mean herbs, HERBS were presented, smelling horridly effective and I said I would make them into tea after my dive.
*** tangent topic*** broke my fin strap just before rolling off the boat for the dive, did the whole thing with one fin… COMPLETE SPAZZ! But a one-fin dive is still better than no dive at all!***
Okay, back on track. After the dive, I was pretty exhausted but had been feeling tired all week, chalked it up to the dive, and dismissed it, along with the going on day 4 stitch in my side kidney pain. A friend of mine had offered me a lift into town and I had things to do – let’s get a move on! Went to town to run a few errands (like pick up a care & love parcel from mom & dad that saved my life!!!) and met back up with my friend in the central market. I was simply standing there, talking to her, when my power went out. Someone flicked a switch, pulled the plug, dropped the curtain, something, but in an instant, I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t lift my arms and could barely hold my head up. I had to sit down. I dragged myself to sit on the curb by the car and couldn’t keep my eyes open as I dropped my head into my arms wrapped around my knees. What the hell was going on here? Two local kids came by asking for money, I offered to give one some if he could go get me a bottle of water, I could barely speak. My friend came back and we made our way home.
Sitting in the car, I felt a bit better. I leaned my head back and tried to talk but my tongue didn’t feel right, it was too big, the words were getting all mumbled up and it was taking forever to get my thoughts out. I sounded drunk or like I should have been wearing a special ed helmet. I was a bit of a mess. Again, just thought I was maybe exhausted from the week and the heat and the dive and simply needed a nap. And in the back of my mind, I was thinking that maybe I really did have a kidney infection and I needed to sort this out.
As luck would have it, I had been house-sitting again at a house that is a two minute walk from my dive shop. I dragged myself into the house, flopped into bed, then had the unusual sense to check my temperature before I lost complete conscious thought. 38.8C. Texted Nicola at work to see what normal was, 36.4 – 37.4C. Oh. Fever. But I’ll figure it out later. I MUST sleep. Out.
Nicola came by after work, I thought I had been asleep for maybe half an hour, but apparently I didn’t move for several. Giggled at the mess of my current state of appearance, pillow wrinkled face and wicked wild hair, and assured her I was fine. She didn’t believe me. Janice, look at you, you have malaria. Oh don’t be ridiculous. Took my temperature again. 39.2C. Shit. That’s not good. Aching everywhere, was struggling to move, but again, just thought it was because I had been sleeping funny and diving with one fin earlier. Nicola had a horrendous bout of malaria a few months ago and she was serious… I had malaria. Nope. Impossible.
Her boyfriend Hennie arrived shortly after. South African sweetheart who really and truly can do absolutely anything you would ever possibly need to survive anywhere under any circumstances EVER. He took one look at me, we check-listed the symptoms, yup, malaria. Oh my gosh you guys! I feel like hell but I don’t have malaria! Back and forth we lob the arguments but ultimately, it was too late to go get tested so there was nothing to do but get through the night and see how things look in the morning. I’ll be fine, I just need sleep. Wow. Sheesh! I’m FINE!
The full body pain took my breath away, the fever stuck, and I drifted in & out until the sun came up. I took Tylenol to try to break the fever and deal with the pain but it barely touched either and I could feel the intensity of each one creeping its way back up as the pills faded from my system. It was fascinating. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t lift my head, my kidney pain now felt like a hatchet in my side, I just couldn’t control what was happening to me. Nicola checked in again in the morning and arranged for a friend of ours to take me to get a malaria test. (If you can’t tell by now, she truly is my guardian angel!) I HAD to have a shower but every moment was in slow motion, focused and deliberate, every movement sent varying coloured flashes of pain to my head that I couldn’t clear. It was all so foreign to me. I just want to get stuff done.
First stop at a local clinic, no tests, next place, finger prick test. Local clinic means small concrete building on the side of a main road with moms and sick babies sitting on every available bit of space and random puddles of who knows what here and there that I just couldn’t think about. I didn’t register the condition of any of them or the clinics, I was blind with my pain by this point. Test… negative. See! Told you guys! Umm… Janice, did you take any meds this morning? Of course I did! Yeah, pain / fever meds apparently block malaria tests. *sigh* Whatever. It’s a kidney infection. Please take me home. I need to go to bed. Dropped into bed, moaning and whimpering like a pathetic and helpless wimp, still insisting I didn’t have malaria. Passed out. Apparently for hours again. Somewhere in my haze, checked temperature again, still up at 39C, took more Tylenol with monumental effort, faded. Awoke half hour later to the piercing ring of my mobile, we’re coming to get you again, this time we’re going to the hospital. I mumbled some kind of consent, was piled back in a car and off we went. Somewhere closer to town, when I began to focus my eyes, I shared the obvious, I had just taken painkillers before they came to get me because I didn’t know they were coming to get me. Well, let’s try anyway.
Local icky hospital. Finger prick test. Negative. Ratted me out for taking the pills, gave me a packet of malaria meds and told me to take them if fever didn’t break. Fine, fine, whatever, bed please. Please. So much pain. Please. We went home, told Nicola, stuck to my kidney infection story, she brought me some industrial strength amoxicillin we had at the dive shop, I agreed to start them the next day. Everyone insisted it was malaria. It was so obvious it was malaria. I was refusing to believe it was malaria. Nicola was going to kill me. But she was still my guardian angel taking ridiculously good care of me.
I shivered and sweated and sobbed through another fever driven, pain-filled night then started the amoxicillin and ibuprofen, instead of Tylenol the next day. Minor improvement but fever spiked at 39.7C and somewhere in the back of my stubborn mule brain, I had to concede. My fingernails hurt, my teeth hurt, my eyeballs hurt, my HAIR hurt, (I kid you not!) and the headaches were just becoming unbearable. I was a mess. I had to move out of the house I was sitting for and into Nicola’s house so packed up my stuff in bits and pieces, was moved into her place at the end of the day and was done. Completely done. We passed by work on the way to her house and the manager and owner were there. I was given a proper and complete bollocking, told I was being absolutely reckless with my life, that the finger prick tests were useless, that all of them who have lived here for years with far too much malaria experience knew exactly what they were looking at when they saw me, and that death was my next option. Seriously. I felt like a child being scolded by the principal, and then I got a bit scared. Heads were shaking as “cerebral malaria” was thrown in as part of the telling off. Gulp. People die from malaria here all the time, even after they take the meds. I didn’t want the drama.
Woke up the next morning after my third miserable night and whimpered my defeat… I’m ready to take the malaria medicine now. Nicola made me so very comfortable in her home but I think she was ready to slap me. Poor girl.
I was continuing with the regular doses of amoxicillin and ibuprofen and I swear, once the first dose of the malaria meds kicked in, the clouds lifted. I could see clearly, without the blurs and flashes of colour and piercing pain, I started to get hungry, the first time in four days, I could stand up straight, I could stay awake for more than 30 minutes and have a proper conversation, and I could walk without feeling like the world was going to slide out from under me. After the first dose. Ummm… okay, yeah, I should have done this four days ago. But I was convinced it wasn’t malaria. I wasn’t vomiting, I was tolerating the pain (barely, but I’m a baby!), I felt horrible but not quite on death’s door, and most importantly - I’m supposed to be immune to malaria damnit! Apparently not.
Quick recovery once I stopped being so bloody stubborn but still struggling with being exhausted all of the time. Not handling that well at all as I have so many things I want and need to do before I leave. That, and I’m not so good at sitting still at the best of times anyway. All in all though, I was a very lucky girl. Nicola and Hennie were regular little nurse maids, sweet friends got me to the hospital without having to endure the truly agonizing experience of a chappa (local mini bus) ride, I got loads of love and sympathy messages, and I responded really well to the meds, bouncing back super quickly. A lucky girl indeed! How people get through it without medication or the comforts that I did is beyond me, and I’m sure I had a very mild case of it.
As I’m coming up on the miserable malaria bits being a distant memory and the after effects simply being annoying, I can see very clearly how this came to be. Yes, yes there was some little mosquito biatch who was after my blood, but more than that, I’ve had a very emotional month and obviously didn’t control my stress as well as I should have. With a very special person leaving my life and then the process of leaving a job and a place that I’ve come to love very much, I know I became overwhelmed. Still smiley and put together on the outside, but it’s that inside stuff that messes things up. So lesson learned, just get over it, and while I can’t claim to be immune to malaria, I will try to keep my stats down to just this once. It was a week of learning and I march on. Malaria is pretty miserable folks. Trust me.
Countdown is here. My last day of work will be Saturday the 19th, I will head down to the city of Maputo to try to collect my new passport on the 22nd, I fly out of Africa on the 24th, and will be on American soil on the 25th. A little sad that I won’t be able to make my visit to mom and dad in Canada but getting more and more excited everyday… mostly about dumb things like driving a car, nice comfy linen, ridiculous amounts of familiar food, and clean feet at any given time. It’s going to amazing. If anyone wants to come to visit Florida, just outside of Tampa, I’ll be the one running around like a loon, acting like a sugar-hyped tourist, and soaking up everything that we love to hate about Western living, from March 25 – April 14. Come and see me before I disappear into the African wild once again. Well, okay, maybe not the wild, but still Africa.
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