The Saga Continues...because JD Oldham said so

Wow.  Has it really been two months since my last post? Oops.  Oh well.  I honestly thought that everyone had stopped reading but one of my loyal followers convinced me he wanted to see the rest of the story.  So JD Oldham, this one’s for you.

*Disclaimer: even I have forgotten the exact chronological sequence of events and probably most of the details.

**2^nd Disclaimer: there will be lots of needles and blood. Just have to put that out there.

Okay so we get to the hospital.  I am basically writhing in pain but of course extensive paperwork needs to be filled out, especially since I am not a South African citizen.  If Kate Lucey had not been there with me to fill it out I do not know what I would have done…probably died on the floor of the hospital lobby.  Not even kidding.  (Sorry Mom, that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.)  So we are sitting in this little cubicle and I’m trying not to move and answer Kate’s questions when I just start crying.  I have never felt more helpless in my life.  I’m not sobbing or anything. Just silent tears because, in all honesty, that is the only thing I could do at that point.  The paperwork is finally done and we are brought to a little triage area.

It was dirty.  I was sitting on dirty sheets.  The floors were dirty.  The people in charge of the area weren’t even wearing hospital apparel.  We were waiting for what seemed like hours before we were even seen.  During the waiting period, people kept coming in and taking stuff out of my curtained-off area.  I was about to lie down and poof, my pillow is gone.  Well that didn’t stop me from lying down.  I was in so much discomfort and I hadn’t slept in over 30 hours.  Kate was being so good to me, talking and rubbing my back and checking out to see if the doctor seemed close.  Well suddenly a man walked in and started taking my blood.  It could have been Buster Posey himself and I wouldn’t have noticed.  Needles don’t bother me (luckily) so I wasn’t even paying attention, and let’s be real I was in no state to be monitoring anything besides the immense pain in my upper abdomen.  Well luckily Kate had been there because the guy started handing her open vials of my blood.  OPEN.  In a country where the HIV prevalence is roughly 25%, blood is not something to be handled casually.  He also stuck the needles in the mattress.  I don’t even want to think about how many sets of DNA I rested on that day.  The doctor managed to come in just as Kate received the vials and he quickly intercepted.  Dr. Baart talked to me and listened to my symptoms.  He said it sounded like a problem with my liver and that they would be running extensive tests on it.  I liked him so much better than the other doctor I had seen and felt a little more mentally comfortable.  I was then taken to my room.

It was a large room with about 6 beds in it but I was the only inhabitant.  I was hooked up to an IV (my nemesis), tucked in, and then left.  There was a 5-minute period where I was completely alone in the room.  I looked around and allowed myself to cry for a minute or two.  Then I wiped my eyes and told myself I had no other option but to get myself through this experience.  When I had checked in, I envisioned being there maybe just overnight, definitely no more than 2 days.  After the discussion with the doctor, however, I had a gut feeling that this was going to be worse than I expected.  From then on I basically became a robot.  I didn’t allow myself to feel anything.  That was the last time I cried in Africa. 

Even though the hospital I was in was tiny and dirty and lacked major resources (an ultrasound, which will come into play later), the staff was so nice.  The nurses were so sweet to me and really made my time there better.  The night staff nurses were especially great which helped a lot because nighttime was the hardest since I couldn’t sleep.  One thing they kept talking about was my skin color.  They loved it.  They kept holding their arms next to mine and saying things like “ohhhhh myyy goooosh I would just loooove to have skin that color”.  I thought they were just trying to make me feel better.  Now that I look back, I realize that it was because I was jaundiced.  The African summer had bronzed me up so the jaundice must have made me look golden.  When I was finally able to get out of bed there was a small mirror by the bathroom that I saw myself in.  Well, it didn’t look like me.  I did in fact look golden.  I was puffy from the IV.  I couldn’t shower while I was there either, so it just got progressively worse.  Oh well, I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. 

I had expected to start feeling better once I was in the hospital.  I was hooked up to an IV with a constant flow of unknown drugs and I had nurses checking on me every half hour, yet I just felt worse and worse.  I still couldn’t sleep and time was passing slower than ever.  I started to feel even more uncomfortable (I really didn’t think that was possible) and I knew I had a raging fever.  My body felt like it was on fire yet I had the chills so I shook uncontrollably if I kicked my blankets off.  The nurses started taking my temperature more frequently.  My normal temperature was about 36.4 C (about 97.6 F).  Then it climbed to 37 C, 38 C, and at one point reached 39.9 C (104 F).  For the majority of time it hovered around 39.4 C (103 C).  That first night was the hardest with the fever because the nurses were on order not to give me any medicine that acted on my liver.  I was still in the process of testing and Dr. Baart didn’t want to screw any of the results up.  They brought me a glass of cold water, which obviously did nothing.  I finally begged them to give me something because the pain was getting to be too much and I was exhausted and needed some sort of relief.  They gave me a half dose of the medicine to ensure it would wear off by the next round of tests.  It helped a little bit, but in no way did it help the fever long-term. 

The only way I was able to communicate with my family at home was through texting.  My poor mother had to receive texts like “I have a fever of 104 and they think something is wrong with my liver so they can’t give me any medicine. What are you up to?”  I’m pretty positive the entire experience took more of a mental toll on her than it did on me.  I also felt bad because my days were her nights, so I would be texting her trying to keep her apprised of what was going on but I knew she had to be exhausted and I wanted to let her sleep.  But basically texting became the link between us.  She didn’t get to hear my voice until I returned to my dorm almost a week later, but at least we could communicate.  

The Gallbladder Saga: Getting to Settlers

So one of the things that comes with the territory of moving to Africa is adjustment.  For my Boston readers out there, we all recall Aquapocalypse.  No drinking out of any faucet, just bottled water or boiled water that had been cooled.  It was the biggest inconvenience. Well, that was life every day in Grahamstown.  I felt dehydrated.  Often.  So adjusting to the water situation was something that would take some time.  And we didn’t just have to adjust to the scarcity of fresh water, our bodies had to adjust to the water itself.  It tasted different.  It was not completely colorless.  So an off-feeling stomach for a while was something to be expected.  We also had to adjust to the food.  Dining at Rhodes is not like dining at BC.  St. Mary’s dining hall made Mac look like heaven.  Lets just say my diet mainly consisted of fruit and toast.  I definitely ate many of the other things I was served, and I never went hungry, but toast was had at every meal to make sure I was eating enough.  Again, adjusting to the food was something I expected and I knew it might take a while.  Sarah, Kate, and I used to joke that we were pregnant and that our babies were acting up when our stomachs were hurting.  It was because of this adjustment phenomenon that it took me a little longer to realize what was happening inside of me was different. 

The Saturday night before my life turned upside down was when it all started, I just had no idea.  I had some high chest pains and bloating and was pretty uncomfortable.  I met up with Sarah and Kate at dinner, blamed my baby and the mystery meat at lunch, and grabbed an apple and a few pieces of bread for toast.  I figured nothing was really that wrong, I’ve felt like that before.  We went to a movie that night and then I just went to bed.  The next day I was still not feeling well.  I stuck to my fruit and toast regimen for the most part but I was really hungry, so I nibbled on things here and there.  I was planning on going to church with Kate and a few friends from my res, but when I got back to my room from dinner I had to lie down.  I was starting to feel really uncomfortable.  My back and shoulders hurt and it hurt to breathe.  I convinced myself it was just the baby and that I just needed to rest.  I was also really excited because I was finally going to start volunteering the next day, so I was sure I would feel better in the morning.  Monday I luckily only had one morning class.  I went to it but noticed that I was in pain the whole time and could not get in a comfortable position.  I found that odd, but I had too much to do that day to really worry about it.  I had finally received notice that my package had arrived and I decided to just go get it right after class, before volunteering.  I knew something was not right when I was drenched in a layer of sweat just walking to the post office and I was fatigued.  I got the package and carried it home, laboriously.  It’s really not a bad walk at all, but I felt like it was killing me.  I quickly opened the package to make sure everything was in it (thank God it all was there) and then I headed out to meet Sarah.  We went to Settlers Hospital to meet with the nursing staff so that we could start volunteering in the children’s ward.  Geoff, our on-campus advisor, drove us there.  Well when we arrived we were told all the staff was in a meeting and would not be available until later.  So with nothing to do, we walked back to campus.  It wasn’t a bad walk, only about 15-20 minutes, but I felt every single step.  It didn’t feel good. 

We got back just in time for lunch.  I sat down with my tray of food and just looked at it.  I knew I wasn’t going to eat it.  Another thing I had started to notice was that I felt much worse after eating, but again I usually just blamed the baby.  Sarah and I were planning on walking back to Settlers at 2, but I knew I physically couldn’t.  I left lunch after only about 10 minutes (we are usually there for an hour) and went to lie down in my room.  I couldn’t get comfortable.  Standing. Sitting. Lying down. Fetal position.  Nothing worked.  I had noticed over the past few days that sleeping had become difficult, but I was usually able to fall asleep somehow.  Not anymore.  I spent the majority of that day watching How I Met Your Mother (which I am now obsessed with because it got me through my darkest hours (dramatic, I know)) and talking to my mom.  She had known I was struggling for a while, but neither of us ever dreamed I would be seeing her face to face 10 days later as we joked about going to Target if I just came home.  Monday night was brutal.  I never fell asleep. Not even for 30 minutes.  I spent my time with half the screen on HIMYM and half on WebMD.  I already had an appointment set up at Health Services for Wednesday so that I could get an ENT referral so I didn’t want to bother them before then.  I’m pretty positive I set the Rhodes record for most Student Health visits in one semester and I was only there 6 weeks.  Well I had convinced myself I had pancreatitis, which I recently learned is something many people can develop after having gall stones, so I didn’t even realize I was on the right track.  My mom kept telling me to wake up Kate and have her come over, but I didn’t want to bother her.  I knew she would have come over in a heartbeat, but I didn’t even know for sure if I was really sick so I didn’t want to disturb her over nothing.  I called Health Services and they were supposed to call me back, but they never did.  My biggest fear was that I was making a big deal out of nothing.  I was having bad Student Health flashbacks to sophomore year at BC when I kept getting tested for strep and mono but they kept being negative and I think they thought I was crazy.  (Funny story, recent tests have shown I probably had mono in the past so I guess I wasn’t crazy after all.) 

Once it hit 6am and I had not had any relief from the pain, I texted Kate and asked her to come over, which she did of course.  We went to Health Services to get some pain meds and set up a Dr. appt for later that morning.  I was able to rest for one hour thanks to some pepto bismol-like liquid I was given.  The Sister (that’s what they call nurses) diagnosed me with gastritis and said the Dr. would take a closer look at it later.  I came back later that morning and all the pain had returned.  The Dr. I saw said it was my fault.  He said I most likely had too much ibuprofen and had destroyed my stomach lining.  He also diagnosed me with severe post-nasal drip and explained that this has been the cause of my swollen glands, ear infections, and headaches.  He then gave me a bag of medicine to counteract all the previous medicines the Sister had given me.  He also gave me this weird metaphor about my lymph nodes as police precincts or something of that nature.  I didn’t get it.  So I went back to my room and took all the medicine he gave me.  I didn’t feel any better.  So after about an hour I called Kate again and said I had to see someone else so she came back over.  I packed a small bag, not expecting to be there that long, and told my mom (whom I had been talking to all night/day) that I would let her know what was going on.  We went back to student health and I explained that I needed to go to the hospital because nothing was working.  They wrote me a note and Geoff drove me and Kate over.  Thank God for Kate Lucey. 

Wow. That was long and I am not even at the hospital yet.  I am also pretty sure I have mixed up a few of the details, but whatever it isn’t that important.  This is just setting the stage for the weirdest 5 days of my life. 

Teaser of the next post:  Open vials of blood.  “Oh my gooooosh, look at her skin color!” 39.4.  Hepatitis. 

the time has come

Well, I have to tell my story sometime.  Now that I am in recovery after having surgery on Monday, seems like the time is now.  Ill be telling it in segments because there is just waaaaay too much to tell in one post.  I will do the first part later tonight.  Tell all your friends because people have probably stopped following my blog with the sudden depressfest and lack of posts (it's ok, I would have stopped following too).

Tonight's section will be about the beginning of my journey to Settlers Hospital.  Get ready. 

GET ME HOME

So I am blogging from Dubai! Thanks free wifi! Is it sad that my journey is not even half over yet?? It is to me. That last flight was nuts. No fat diets suck and on planes there is NOTHING to eat.  The plane was full so I couldn't get bumped up (and I so totally would have been, the lady checking me in felt so bad for me (leaving the hospital bracelets on probably helped)).  Now I have 2 and a half hours to kill before i board my 16 hour flight.  Since the gall stones didn't kill me, this honestly might.  Speaking of the gall stones, I owe my lovely blog followers a HUGE post.  I will tell my tale of the 4+ days in Settlers Hospital one day soon.  Maybe in the next hour if no one comes online to talk to me (even if no one talks to me don't expect a post).  There is just so much to tell and in all honesty I haven't processed it all yet, and probably won't be able to for a while.  Right now all I can handle is mentally preparing myself for this flight. Wish me luck!

no bueno

So most of you know why I haven't been blogging lately.  I have been in the local hospital since Tuesday.  Crazy times. Unpleasant times.  I learned some heartbreaking news, I will have to come home this coming Tuesday to have surgery to have my gallbladder removed (I had gallstones).  I know this post seems very cut and dry but to be honest that is all I can manage right now.  I am exhausted. And I overestimated my own strength by going on a safari today, the day I got out of the hospital.  Glad I did it since, oh hey, that's the last bit of Africa I get. 

I will post more of the details of my epic hospital days later when I have the time and energy.  

2am is still 2am

It's a Mary Sheehy day here in Africa! For those of you that don't know the reference, it is a beautiful blue day without a cloud in the sky, named after my grandmother because she loved them so.  I'm off to the pool to hopefully get dark!

Tomorrow will FINALLY be my first day of volunteering! I am very excited.

There is no Daylight Savings in Africa, so I didn't lose an hour of sleep. Yay! BUT thats means the time differences are now different.  I'll spare you the strenuous calculations.  I am now 9 hours ahead of California and 6 hours ahead of Mass.

I am also convinced I am the only person in all of Africa that listens to country music.  And I play it PROUDLY.

also.....

Who is reading my blog from the United Arab Emirates?

and.....

A quick shoutout to MY DAD and CARRIE PEOPLES for being the first two people to send me mail!  It was such a nice surprise :) Getting mail here is even more exciting than getting it at BC......hint hint.......

Frustrations.

Well, let's be real, of course things were bound to go slightly downhill after holding baby lions.  It's not like life could get better from there.

So the first and least frustrating thing is that my first test is tomorrow.  Art History.  The professor gave us the exam question today in lecture...so not really worried about that one. It will be difficult to try and write how she wants me to write since I really have no clue what she is looking for, but it is also my first test here and I am aware of that so I just want to get it over with.

Second.  I have a double ear infection.  I am on my 4th round of antibiotics (5th round of drugs including the 'roids).  I now also have to get weekly shots in an unpleasant area.  My immune system is very needy and likes to require my attention all. the. time.  This seems to be the norm for me so I'm fighting through it and trying to not let it bring me down.  Next week I will go back to the doctor to get an ENT referral. Maybe Africa will finally figure out what's wrong with me?  Probably not. But hey, here's to hoping.

Third. Fire Drill. 4:30 am.  Alarm is located right outside my door.  Did I mention the double ear infection? Did I also mention I have a dawnie (7:45 am class) every Thursday? (That is extremely frustrating in itself).  Of course on the day I am already sleep deprived, I am awakened by an obnoxious noise that sounds like a car accident without the crash.  And of course it is practically impossible to fall back asleep when i know I have to wake up again in an hour and a half.  This morning was a definite strugglecoaster.

Fouth.  I have still not been able to volunteer.  This is by far the most frustrating thing I have encountered here so far.  Volunteering was one of the main reasons I decided to come to Rhodes.  I have been here almost a month and have not gotten to do anything yet.  I was supposed to start last Monday with the support group, but it had to be pushed back a week due to lack of facilities.  Today I was supposed to start volunteering at the preschool for children who are HIV infected.  I was supposed to meet the coordinator at 9:45 so that she could drive me to the preschool and then she would pick me up at noon to bring me back.  Well at 10:02 it started raining and I was waiting outside without an umbrella or a jacket, so I decided I wasn't going to make it today.  I am really hoping everything goes smoothly next week, and I am planning on also volunteering at the pediatric wing of the local hospital.  I am sure once things get rolling I will feel much better.

And if they don't, I plan on dropping out and working at the Lion Park until I come home.  Mom, Dad, thoughts?

baby lions baby lions BABY LIONS.

Today was the greatest day of my life.  Nothing else can or will ever compare.  Getting into college? Nope. My future wedding day? Sorry. The day I finally get my Bernese Mountain Dog puppy? Probably a close second. I HELD A BABY LION TODAY. Am I being perhaps a bit dramatic? Of course.

But in all seriousness, I have a deep love for lions.  Christian the Lion is my most-watched you-tube video.  I practically cried when I saw the whole documentary because due to animal rights laws I would never get to buy a lion cub at a department store and raise him as my pet.  This is probably better for everyone, but still.

Today was awesome because a bit of my fantasy came true.  We were able to go to the Seaview Lion Park near Port Elizabeth with ZooSoc (Zoo Society).  What ZooSoc is, is a club (they call them societies here) that organizes animal-y events, such as this trip to the lion park and a canoe trip on a game reserve.  At Rhodes each student has to pay for each club he or she joins, but lucky for us BC picks up our tab.  So we had free transportation to and from the park and lunch included.  I was all about it. 

When we first got there we had a talk from our guide about the general history of the park, then walked around to see the older lions.  In my photos all the older lions are the ones behind the fences. These lions are beautiful creatures and I had to practice some serious self-control to keep myself from jumping the fences and joining them.  Seeing the older lions was really cool, but not even close to the best part.  It was also very hot and sticky and I felt like a popsicle melting in your hand: gross.  But I didn’t care.  I had one thing on my mind and one thing only.  Hold a baby lion.  I knew it was coming.  I just didn’t want to wait. 

After the walk about the park we walked up to the restaurant to get our lunch.  The lion handling stations were near the restaurant so I looked for them and went straight to the baby lions.  There were three boys under the age of 5 playing with 3 lions under the age of 15 weeks.  Definitely THE cutest thing I have ever seen.  I was like a little girl at Christmas I couldn’t contain my excitement.  Then my friend Uyen, another girl from BC, told us that you could also handle older lions.  We went out back to see them and I almost fainted.  14-month-old lions, basking in the sun, WITH VOLUNTEERS NAPPING WITH THEM AND USING THEM AS PILLOWS.  I saw there in front of  me my life’s ultimate dream.  But then I realized I was in a pickle (probably rivals the pickle Smalls got the gang into in the greatest summer of his life).  I would have to decide: older lions, or baby lions.  I obviously wanted both, but due to time constraints and the number of people with us you had to choose.  I gazed at the napping adolescent lions.  I wanted to nap with them too.  But, lets be real, BABY LIONS were waiting for me on the other side of the building.  How could I pass up a baby anything, let alone a baby wild animal.  So we went back to the baby station to get in line.  When we got there, however, all the babies were sleeping.  It would be much less fun to play with a sleeping baby lion than an awake big lion.  So back we went.  Let me just say, GOOD DECISION.

Kate and I entered the enclosure and I was bursting with joy. The guide first brought us to the sunbathing duo and when he said we could pet them my hand lunged out as if independent from my body.  Again, greatest day of my life.  After petting those two, and one of them snapping at Kate, we went to check out the two in the shade.  We spent a lot of time with them and Noam, the big guy, loved getting his belly rubbed.  He wrapped his paw around my arm and I knew we were in love. 

It was awesome.  After that wonderful experience we checked out some of the other lions and animals around the area.  There seemed to be quite a bit of down time as part of the group went on a tour of an area we had already seen.  We went back to check out the baby lions.  We came upon a young girl cuddling one in her lap.  Instant jealousy.  Kate, Sarah, and I looked at each other.  We all were thinking the same thing.  Once the little girl left and two of the cubs were up and about, we knew we had to hold them.  So, low and behold, my wish came true and we got to pet both sets of lions!  Those cubs were the cutest things ever.  Skyla, the white one, is definitely Scout’s long-lost extraspecies cousin.  They had very similar attitudes and nipping habits.  It was like playing with my own puppy all over again, but this was a wild animal. 

Basically, today I was the happiest girl alive.  I am also very excited because this Lion Park has a volunteer program right up my alley that I am hoping to get to do after my finals.  It is something I am very interested in, and I really hope it works out!

This post was definitely blah without the pictures, but I am testing Picasa out so I put some of them up there! Hope it works, let me know if it doesn’t!  CLICK HERE if you want to feel warm and fuzzy inside