Hello my devoted followers! If you were actually devoted, you would be asking yourself, where is Katelyn? It's been a while since I've heard from her! I wonder if something happened to her?
Normally I would tell you that you were crazy and that I was fine... but alas, this time, I cannot. (Hakuna matata now though, we're all good).
Commence story.
It was a dark and stormy night, and something was amiss. You could feel it in the air... or not.
I went to my friend's dorm room to watch a movie and hang out, but by time I got there I was pretty tired. Now, being tired for me is pretty normal, so this did not alarm me. But I fell asleep before he even started the movie. I woke up around an hour later and to go home, even though I had completely ignored my poor friend (although he was playing video games). He walked me home and told me several times how bizarre I was when I was tired. Over and over again. I thought nothing of it, because I'm always tired and always bizarre. I was carrying my messenger bag, and with every step I took, it felt like someone was putting one more rock in it. I arrived at my room, so tired and exhausted that I fell into bed, still in my clothes.
Fast-forward. Through out the night, I kept waking up to go to the bathroom, but I couldn't figure out why, until the third or so time. After coming back from the toilets, I laid down and all of the sudden had the most intense intestinal pain I've ever had in my life. Honestly, it was like someone was stabbing me with a knife. No lies. Truth rekk (just truth). I just thought it was stemming from earlier stomach problems (January, Dominican Republic) so I didn't think a lot of it. Three times later waking up, my back was causing me intense pain. I just thought it was the crappy bed. So, again, I didn't think much of it.
Fast-forward to morning. Eight o'clock. I wake up with the most intense migraine I've ever had. Now, I thought it was strange that all of this would happen at once, but I deduced that to dehydration. So, using the last 40cfa of credit I had, I texted Joleen (horrible choice because the girl sleeps like a rock, maybe even harder) and Hannah. About a half an hour later, Hannah responded. By the time she showed up to my room, I had finally put the pieces together: fever, headache, stomach pain, achy body, fatigue... What does that equal? MALARIA! Ding ding ding! And we have a winner!
Hannah, after arriving to my room, decided to go grab some pedialyte and call Andrew (because calling Joleen at 9am is just a waste of credit and she'll NEVER answer!). So he arrives and Hannah takes my temperature: 101.5. And off we go to the hospital.
We make it to the hospital, and I'm not feeling so hot. We get inside and EVERYBODY stares like it's their job. I collapse onto a bench while Andrew and Hannah try to make sense of the Senegalese "hospital". Finally, after about half an hour, someone sees me and asks what's wrong. Andrew tells them because I don't feel like trying to explain in French... The doctor concedes that it is probably malaria (paludisme in French) and takes me to someone else to prick my finger and give blood. They put me in a room with air conditioning. Now, I have nothing against air conditioning in Africa when it's bloody hot, but when it's bloody hot and I'm already freezing because I have a temperature, don't put me in an air conditioned room... are you crazy!?
After getting poked and giving blood, they told me to sit on the stone bench again, and I just about died. Sitting just was not possible at that point, so they gave me a bed and I passed out. After fifteen minutes of curing time, the test told me that, yes indeed, you do have palu! But, don't think you can get off easy, you have palu plus! The intestinal pains that I had were not palu, but gastro-intestine something-is. I mean, go big or go home, right?
Well, two IV bags later, I was feeling great and on my way home.
Stevens ended up being the only one left in my room, watching poor sickly Katelyn. After going to the bathroom several times (sorry, but it's a crucial detail), I passed out in the bathroom. I regained composure just long enought to make it into the room and collapse onto the floor before fainting again. While hysterically crying, I told Stevens to call Andrew and that I was going back to the hospital.
Andrew comes running back from class (which the professor wouldn't postpone because he didn't care that I had malaria) and sees me still lying on the floor, despite Stevens efforts to get me to move to the bed, and calls the ambulance. Now, not being able to stand up without feeling like I was going to faint, Andrew and Stevens decide to carry me. Now, take a moment to picture this. They are probably two of the scrawniest (muscular, yet really scrawny) guys you've seen, carrying me... not the scrawniest girl you've ever seen. All the while I'm balling, and the CV (like the guy who's older who lives in the dorm to help you? I think?) comes to help them carry me. Again, since the Senegalese think that staring is their number one occupation in life (and since all they do is strike), everyone stared at me like it was their job. Ridiculous. I get tossed in the ambulance and have to wait for Stevens and Andrew to do their deal and close my room and we're off. Again. This time to the student hospital.
We get there and they put me in a room (air conditioned again, still feverish) and three guys looked at me. Finally they started asking questions about what was wrong, and when I told them I had malaria, they didn't believe me, which I think is a general way of doing things there (which I'll get into later). They didn't think I had taken the test, and couldn't figure out where the professor's hospital was (about 600 yards down the road) and therefore thought I was delusional as well.
They decided to give me another IV. And let me update you on the last IV. That thing, I don't know where it was, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't my vein considering the bruise and bulge it left in my arm. So there's a huge bruise on my left arm. This guy looks and decides that he'll go with the right arm. Now, I'm not sure how he got to the conclusion that the side of my wrist would EVER be a good place for an IV, but he pokes the needle in. And out. And in. And out. And in. And out. The entire time, I lay on the bed begging for mercy and he doesn't believe that it hurts. Finally, alxamdulilaay, he decides to go for the top of my hand (which also hurt like a 2x4 to the face) and gets it in there safely. After injecting probably 6 bottles of drugs (Lord only knows what they were), they tell me to get up and we're going to the next room. I sit up and immediately everything goes black and I lose my hearing. I'm going to faint. So, being responsible, I tell them. Does he believe, or care? Say it with me, NO! They tell me to get up and go. I tried and they were surprised when I fainted in their arms.
Now, after this, things get blurry. There were medicines bought, I was told to poop in a cup for testing reasons, and food was brought. So, when the nurse-man told me to poop in a cup, I could not reach the bathroom without fainting, so I had to wait for food, but do that before the meds arrived. Well, the meds arrived before the food and the poor little thumb sized beaker was forgotten. So, I ate. And decided to try to go to the bathroom. Hannah and Joleen have to help me there, which was completely ridiculous, but you know, I was sick.
Timeline: I decide to go to the bathroom. The analyst is there. I go to the bathroom, have immense difficulties trying to poop in a cup the size of my thumb, but finally do it. I come out of the bathroom, holding the thumb-sized beaker away from me (and hannah and joleen) and try to make it back to the room. We get to the room and ask where the analyst is. He's gone. Literally the man was there 5 seconds before I was done. We ask where he went: it's four o'clock. Time to go home. So he left, knowing I was in the bathroom. And the nurse tells me I'll have to do it again tomorrow when the analyst is there. Are you kidding me, sir? Unless my life depends on it, I'm not doing that again! Anyway, while I sulk in bed, the others just sat and laughed at me. Which looking back, was funny in that sick sort of way.
Well anyway. Time passes by, and bottles (thirteen in total, to be exact. I think there might have been more though.) get emptied into my body through a needle. Some man comes to visit and tells me he'll bring me a meal. Now, team, what do you bring someone who is having gastro-intestinal problems? Fried eggs, fries and mayo? I'd say no. But think again, I'm in Africa, and that's exactly what they bring. The man brought the plate in the room and I felt like I was about to throw up. Oh, wait. Don't forget the onion sauce with is heavily spiced with about a liter of oil to go along with the spices.
Well, tons of people came to visit, which don't even start me on how awkward that is. All I was willing to do was sleep and they want to converse. What is there to say? How are you? sick. I have palu plus. What have you done today? Slept with an IV in my hand and had to be helped to the bathroom. Anything else? Nope.
Okay, well. It's time for everyone to leave and no one wants to stay the night. Which is a problem, considering I couldn't go to the bathroom alone. Stevens decided he'd stay the night, and went to ask permission, but the doctor said no because he was a man and I was a female. Well, what did he do? Stayed anyway! He was great. Didn't even complain when I asked him to get up three times in the night to go to the bathroom (can I remind you thirteen plus bottles of liquid through a needle in my hand?!). He left in the morning to finally get some sleep and the nurse-man came to remove my IV (just the tube, not the needle part) which was amazing because I could move to sleep.
A couple more bottles of IV later (after the re-installed tubing), they told me I was good to go home and the ambulance would take me home. Well. Four hours later and a nasty lunch of riz ameliore (bettered rice... by what? a ton of spices and oil?) and more onion sauce (again, spices and oil) which I never touched and asking about fifteen times about the ambulance, they finally decided that I could leave. So I took the ambulance home, fun times. The driver tried to marry me off.
Made it home, safe and sound. But I was so freaking bored from sitting and doing nothing for a day and a half, that I had to do things, so no one believed I was sick. Oh well. I think they think that if you're sick you have to lay around and mope (at least that's what one of my roommates does) and make everyone else miserable because you don't feel good. I just put on some music and was listening to the stuff Bambu had sent!! Oh and I guess going into town concretes the fact that you're not sick, even though I had just gotten my package from Kari and Bambu! (THANKSSSSSSSSS! Jerejef!)
Oh well, I'm doing better now. I'm really tired, but nothing worse. I think I have a parasite (Joleen too, but that's a whole 'nother long story), but I'm hoping these bomb pills they gave me that kill everything in my stomach will work and that I'll be all better sooN!
Love to all of you from this mosquito-ridden country... (only the female ones bite!)
Kate
Ps. We're still on strike. Til Tuesday, two days of vacation Thursday and Friday for some Muslim holiday, and Christmas vacation starts the 22nd. That leaves us Wednesday, Saturday (maybe), Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. But, let's just think about it. A month of strike, why start now?!
Pps. For Christmas break, I'm going to The Gambia! :D
