The big adventure for last week was
adapting to having virtually no running water. It started with poor water pressure in the afternoon, followed by no
water in the evening the next day -- then no water at all! It’s amazing how your
priorities are forcibly unveiled in a situation like this. Of course drinking water must come first. Then you must keep in mind that out
in the African bush, with no grocery stores, you are reliant on your vegetable garden
for a substantial portion of your sustenance; a vegetable garden which needs
daily watering in the dry season! Then third down the line of
importance – a new lesson for me! – is toilet flushing water! I would rather
have that than a running shower. Actually you’d be amazed just how far down the list a
shower comes in this situation. (I was just glad no one from home was here to
witness, i.e. smell, this experience.)
You’d think, living in the 21st
century, we shouldn’t have to make these distinctions! But then I’m reminded
how little of the global population actually live in what we deem as “21st
century” times.
After that hoo-ha, unfortunately I’ve been
pretty sick (again). A week and a half ago I had really bad nausea, abdominal
pain and loss of appetite; after starting a course of ciprofloxacin (a tummy
antibiotic) I started to feel better and by Wednesday last week I was back to
normal. Or so I thought.
On Monday about five minutes into my ward
round all the symptoms rushed back with a vengeance. I managed to finish my round
then came straight back home. I went over to Dr J’s place to talk to his wife who
said with this ‘recurrence’ it was most likely giardia and gave me a high-dose
three day course of another antibiotic. She warned me that I should try to take
it with food and that it was known to worsen nausea.
A bread roll, two grams of tinidazole
and thirty minutes later, I vomited all over the floor of my room.
Yuck.
That’s what happens when it’s so hot that
you lie in bed under your mosquito net in your underwear and you know your
flatmates are home for their lunch-break and a sudden urge to vomit hits you
from nowhere and you’re rushing in this state to try to get some clothes on… but
you just don’t make it to the bathroom in time.
Sitting with my head in the toilet and at
the same time trying to fight off the ants crawling up my legs, I thought to
myself, nothing is easy here.
Nothing.
I’ve been pretty incapacitated since then.
I haven’t had anything to eat the past two days. I’m so sick of lying in bed,
but I’m so drained I can barely keep myself in a sitting position. The pain has
been horrendous, like a giant alien parasite is crawling around inside my small
intestines wrecking havoc. I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about my bowel
motions on this blog, but lets just say there would be plenty to talk about and
it ain’t pretty.
Thankfully last week saw the arrival of the
new permanent doctor from the States. Dr R is a Family Medicine specialist (= General Practitioner) and his wife is a nurse by
training, although she won’t be working in that capacity here. Dr R is my
favourite kind of American – the kind with a firm, strong handshake, burly American
accent and a good sense of humour. Because he will be taking over the care of
the Female Ward (one I have been in charge of during my stay) he joined me for
a full ward round on Saturday morning. On retrospect, I’m really glad he did
since I’ll be out of action most of this week.
I just can’t get over how challenging this
trip has been. One obstacle after another. I have no regrets, but I am more than ready
to be home.
Fourteen days until I am back on New
Zealand soil. What a glorious, joyous day that will be!
‘Till next time,
-A
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