Stomach Woes

So guess what. I’m missing school. Again. And on the one day that I actually made a lesson plan (for question tags—it does sound invigorating, doesn’t it?). I am honestly getting very sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time!

My throat is almost entirely better, but I went to the choo four times last night and three times this morning, and it wasn’t because I’d drunk too much water. I hate that I keep getting these annoying little symptoms successively, so that whilst I’m not totally debilitated I never feel well enough to actually do something. At this point I would actually prefer to fall really, really ill, as in can’t-move-from-my-bed ill, so that I’d at least feel like I have a legitimate excuse for not going to teach. But no; I just feel tired and sluggish and stomach-achey, and the thought of a six-hour, almost non-stop presentation in front of all those kids and teachers just seems too much of a task right now. If I were a better person I would probably be able to just suck it up and go, but I’m lazy and selfish and weak and totally defeated by a little pain. I also don’t want to take Cipro because I already feel like a pillbox, what with two antibiotics, the antihistamine, Doxy and Pepto-Bismo.

Although I actually don’t feel like eating, which is pretty serious for me. Hopefully if I’m empty by the afternoon I can go to Lwanda, because I feel really, really guilty for not going to see the kids.

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I didn’t end up going to school after all, because I took a nap that lasted for four hours. What is wrong with me? Why can’t six or seven hours of sleep be enough? Why do I always feel so tired all the time (and it’s NOT schisto!)?

Does It Feel Good to Talk Again!

I am feeling much better—made it to Customs and back this morning! Joy was up at 6 because she had agreed to go to church with a boy she met (Augustine?). I saw them on a piki on my way to Customs and Billy with Chacha on the way back. It turned out that they went to the same service and were asked to speak to the congregation.

It was a relaxing day. I read the news (which was actually rather disturbing—droughts in Somalia, shooting and bomb in Norway, derailed bullet train in China, and death of Amy Winehouse), refrained from Sporcling, drew Katy, and tried an ink drawing (fail) in the afternoon. I need much much more practice on that if I want to become even slightly unembarrassing.

Joy and I took a long walk before dinner. We talked about relationships, alcohol, yuanfen, kindred spirits and spontaneity/stability; she and I share many of the same sentiments regarding these topics. We differ though, on our opinions about relationships with the local people. I shy away, afraid of becoming too attached to someone who may see me only as a source of easy income, whereas she is willing to take the risk. I wish I could have her attitude and courage. Usually, though, I just feel too tired. Maybe I’m just too lazy to make an effort to know these people better.

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I started reading One Day (stolen from Caitlyn), by accident today. I was returning something to her bed and the book just happened to be lying there. So of course I pick it up just to thumb through, and an hour later Caitlyn comes in and finds me standing next to her bed, reading her book. I’m not weird, not at all.

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Caitlyn, Elizabeth, Sadhna and Leonard went for dinner at Mama Terrence’s. I went with them down to Tagache and to see the tailor, Zainabu, and then we parted ways. I saw Basil again, and he walked me back to WISER. He invited me to his house on Friday. I had met him once on my only run in the opposite direction to Customs, back towards Migori, when he had been cycling to school in Nyatike, and again in Tagache a few days ago on a trip with Joy. I will unashamedly admit that I was proud of myself (and glad!) for remembering his name. He seems genuine enough—I will try and not be so guarded. I must stop this paranoia that I have developed!

St. Joseph's Hospital

I took my second trip in a week to Migori. The purpose of this trip was quite different from the last, though; this time we headed straight for the hospital. Amy and Marta came with us in the car, and we dropped them off at Barclays. The ride was as bumpy as always but riding shotgun made it that much better.

The hospital, Saint Joseph’s, is Catholic-affiliated. It comprises of several one-story buildings, with separate quarters for the reception, pharmacies, patients’ wards and laboratories. The area in between the buildings is spacious and open, and full of greenery. Thankfully, too; it would have been very claustrophobic otherwise, and I was glad that I could get some fresh air.

By the standards of a US hospital, Saint Joseph’s is poorly equipped. Given that I had just come out of Muhuru Bay, however, it was something of a shock to see the mercury sphygmomanometer and digital thermometers that the nurses were handling. After waiting in one of the open ‘rooms’ with a couple of other patients who were coughing rather disturbingly hard (TB?), we were admitted into the office, and the clinician had a proper computer with a database system. Albeit one that didn’t have the test he wanted me to take at the lab. We took the handwritten sheet down to the lab, where we were again told to wait.

This wait lasted a good hour and more. It turned out that they'd run out of some of the equipment they needed for my throat swab, so they had to go out to buy it. After the third time Abigail asked them about it, they finally let us into the tiny lab room—thank goodness both of us are small. Then the assistant disappeared without an explanation, so—of course—we had to wait, yet again. It turned out that they'd realised that they didn’t have the wooden stick either, so he had to go and get some from goodness knows where—after it was already our turn to take the test. Why they couldn't have prepared beforehand, I don’t know.

The lab assistant was not great with the swab, when it came. He kept telling me to “relax your tongue” whilst sticking a sharp rod with one end wrapped in a bit of suspiciously brown cotton wool down my throat. I wanted to yell at him, but of course I couldn't. Eventually I somehow managed to stop myself from gagging for long enough for him to put the swab in deep down, and then we were out of there as fast as I could persuade Abigail to go. She really is such a sport.

We came back forty-five minutes later (with me in a much better mood, having bought four very choice mangos) and were pleasantly surprised to learn that the test results were already out. It was strep-positive. I guess at that point it wasn’t really surprising anymore, because I knew it wasn’t just a normal sore throat, and to be honest I was glad to see that I hadn’t been making a fuss about nothing. We went back to the clinician (another brief wait), got the prescription, went to pay for the medication (another long wait), and then finally, finally went to the pharmacy section for the drugs (yet another wait). I’d been prescribed two antibiotics because the original one the clinician had wanted to use was out of stock, as well as an antihistamine. The worst of the strep was  already over and I probably would have gotten better on my own without taking the meds, but I wasn’t about to waste all that waiting!

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I hadn’t been planning on running today, but after we got back I felt so stiff and antsy that I decided to go for a short one, not pushing myself, after all. Thank goodness I did. It was probably the best run I’d had in a long, long time, despite the strep throat. The weather was cloudy and it was getting late, so it was relatively cool, and it wasn’t painful apart from a tingling in my throat. I felt so much better afterwards as well. That was when I knew that I would be recovered soon; I could run again, so everything was fine.

What a Really, Really Sore Throat Feels Like

I had a really, really terrible night last night. My throat got worse, and even though I went to bed at 9 out of exhaustion I couldn't sleep because I woke up every time I swallowed from the pain. They were also really loud in the dining room, so I had to get up several times and ask them to keep the noise down. Eventually, though, the pain got so unbearable that I had to ask Caitlin for a couple of ibuprofen, so I guess it was a good thing that they were still up. I think I slept for a total of three and a half hours, maximum. Needless to say I didn’t get up for my run this morning.

Actually, I didn’t run at all today, which should explain just how serious my throat is. It is really that bad. I don’t give up my run easily. But I did take a nap in the afternoon, a blessed four-hour nap. Thank goodness for that.

I can’t speak. It is uncomfortable and extremely annoying. Reese and Adria made dinner today, and Madam Dorcas was the guest. I couldn't do my brief introduction to her because of course I couldn't make a sound. The food was great—a tomato, avocado and corn salad with dressing, guacamole, chapatti and pineapples. Madam Dorcas was also a fantastic speaker, and her story was very interesting. She told us briefly about her education, her family, her journey to WISER, and she made us guess her age (54—I guess she must be around that age, but she is really very stately and energetic). She has two children, one in university and one who has just finished his Masters degree. Her husband owns a hotel, the Hillview, in Migori. She knows the headmaster of Starehe Boys’ Secondary School, where Leonard went. She is just an all-round amazing person.

Hopefully tonight will be better. I'm going to Migori tomorrow to visit the hospital. THANK GOODNESS I'm not teaching!