African Hospital

I really do mean to update this daily. But then, homework and work and life happen, and it doesn't get done. I apologize and promise to try harder.

So a few people have asked me if I got sick. Short answer: yes. Yes I did. I don't remember hardly anything about that day, but here's what I've collected from people who were there...

The third morning we were there we got up for breakfast and I didn't talk to anyone. And I sat there and watched them eat. They thought I was just crabby... (Me? Crabby? Never...)

Anyway, that day we were going to Mulago Hospital. Most of the people in Uganda are poor, and this is the hospital that they go to. If you are able to pay for a nurse, you get one; otherwise, you are taken to a ward where you get a bed and your family camps out beside your bed to take care of you. The doctor will come in with your meds, but other than that, it is completely up to your family to change your dressings, bathe you, feed you...yeah. So we were going to visit the children's ward. 

I guess at some point I said to one of my fellow teammates that I felt like I was going to fall over. She said I was white and my eyes were glazed over. So she grabbed my hand firmly and led me out into the hallway. I sat down and started crying for some reason...I don't know. So then we went down to the bus so I could be taken home. I was sweating, so they took my sweatshirt off, but then I started shivering and shaking so they covered me up with it. I remember laying in the back of the bus feeling like I was in a bucket of ice water.

So they took me back to where we were staying for a while and then later decided that I should get checked out at the hospital (different one than the one we were visiting earlier.) I hadn't had much water and was pretty dehydrated. So my wonderful roommate, my lovely Chicago friend, my 2nd mother, and my African mother took me to the hospital.

I remember waking up, looking around, seeing that this room was not sanitary by US standards, looking down and seeing an IV in my hand, and thinking "Oh crap, I have AIDS." Not even kidding, that's exactly what went through my head. Sooooo, I had an anxiety attack. It's never happened before, but I assume that's what you'd call not being able to breathe and crying hysterically. (I have never been described as hysterical before - except when talking about my killer sense of humor and amazing wit, of course.) And apparently my (hot) doctor kicked out everyone but my 2nd mother and talked me through it.

And I'm just fine now, thank you very much. But I did have to take this nasty liquid medicine--it came in a glass jar with flames on it and it tasted like a combo of minty banana foot. Mmmm. I wanted to bring it home just so you could all smell it, but then didn't want the jar to break all over my stuff. Gross. 

And even more disappointing, I had to stay home for the next day and a half. I was sad. But I got to hang out with the amazing staff people at "Maria's Place" (Where we stayed.)

I haven't uploaded pictures to my computer yet, but I will soon. Promise.