Flirting with Malaria

Malaria- recurring illness transmitted by mosquitoes: an infectious disease caused by a parasite that is transmitted by the bite of infected mosquitoes. Common in tropical countries

Interesting Fact: In Italian, Mal= bad and Aria= Air, so malaria is “bad air.” Originally Europeans who came to Africa thought the air was infected and that’s what killed them. No, it was just the mosquitoes…

It’s funny how things can turn so suddenly out of nowhere; one minute you’re lying on the beach enjoying the ocean breeze and tiki huts, and the next, you’re glued to your bed because your body doesn’t have the energy to move. Well, this happened to me. I spent a lovely weekend at the estuary where the Volta River meets the Atlantic ocean, and my resort was on the peninsula that separates these two bodies of water. All I had to do was turn right if I wanted to swim in the calming river, or turn left if I was craving the powerful salty waves of the ocean. I went with two others: my roommate Laurel and (the now blog famous) Gareth. We had a great time. Although to be honest it could not compare to Green Turtle (the first beach resort we went to).

Sunday we got home, and wow was I tired! I just assumed it was from a weekend in the sun. But as the evening drew on I started feeling feverish and went to bed at 9. I woke up and I was worse, so I didn’t go to class. I slept on and off, but mostly on for close to 24 hours. At this point though, I barely had the energy to lift water in my mouth, let alone walk to the bathroom. I started to think “Hmm, maybe this isn’t heat stroke or the flu…” and my mind started drifting toward thoughts of the potentiality of malaria. Great. So Stacy convinced me that I should probably go to the hospital ASAP, for when it comes to malaria, the sooner the better…

We get to the hospital and they quickly notice how weak I appear. I’m admitted after some time (even at hospitals there seems to be little sense of expediency here!). They take blood and give me a shot for malaria. I’m hooked to an IV which was, from what I can remember from past painful experiences, the most painful experience. Oh, and it only took them 4 times to actually get it INTO the vein. At this point Laurel and Gareth have also arrived at the hospital for support, and they’re cringing at the pain I’m in. Oh well, it’s over now…

So they start treating me for malaria because I’m showing all the symptoms, although the blood has not confirmed it yet. Malaria was never found in my blood but it is possible that I could be hosting it, but it just hasn’t reached the blood yet. Well, that’s the gist I got from the doctor at least. The beginning was the worst, because it was filled with blood, shots, and needles galore. And I actually got used to the IV, I learned how to walk with it gracefully, I could maneuver it in tight spaces, and I even figured out how to dress myself with a 3 inch needle in my wrist attached to a baggie of glucose! I’m telling you, after 36 hours of eating, sleeping, reading, and writing with this IV attached to you, you learn to be one with it.

So finally Wednesday morning I convince them to remove the IV. Oh happy days! Well I sort of just showed them how swollen my wrist was and they felt bad for me so they took it out, but hey, whatever works right?! I then started getting pushy about being discharged. I mean, I have no IV in anymore, I’ve been here since Monday 10pm, and I am now able to take my medication by mouth. What else can they do for me? Nothing but take my money. So I wanted out.

I’m better now. I have an appetite, and I’m able to carry my weight to the bathroom and around the ward. I don’t really know what it was that affected me. Maybe some serious food poisoning, but I didn’t eat anything unusual and what I did eat I shared with someone else. The point is, I’m better now, and I survived, but I probably won’t be able to donate blood anymore, for the fear that I could have carried malaria.

Hey it’s an experience, right? And things could have been worse. All I can do is laugh about it. And it was a very good first time hospital experience in retrospect; the staff always kept a smile on my face, even when they were injecting me with needles and causing me pain. I think that’s a valuable skill, and I definitely appreciated in my time of agony. Very sweet people, Ghanaians are. And I learn this increasingly everyday.

The next day, Thursday-- I wake up completely horrible AGAIN: in a word, shitty. I was sick all day, but I had to force myself to eat because it is crucial that you take the malaria medicine with food. It was an utmost painful day. And what happened? I felt about 90% at the hospital: full of energy, eating again, and ready to go home (campus that is, not The States haha), but here I was as sick as before! What was happening to me?! What was plaguing my body so? WHYY?!

Dinner comes round and I force myself to eat. It has never been so hard for me to eat rice before in my life. I kept telling myself, “Keep eating, you need a big meal, it’ll be good for you, just do it.” Well it proved more difficult than I thought it would and I subsequently just threw it all up. My mind and my body I guess really did not want food. This was the breaking point for me-- I guess it was time to go BACK to the hospital. Wow, how depressing. How I despised the thoughts of being strapped to an IV, sleeping in the hospital, and having my day planned around THEIR schedule for me…

I was weakened and defeated. I went to the Emergency care in the hospital and the same doctor who checked me in the first night was there again tonight. How wonderful! Because she was familiar with my condition going in on Monday and now this would just be an update for her. I told her how shitty my day went and she understood everything. She told me that everything I was feeling-- nausea, cramps while consuming food, and loss of appetite-- were all side effects of the anti-malaria meds I was taking. What a relief! I thought I was getting sick all over again, but no, it was just side effects. I convinced her that I was well hydrated and there was no need to keep me overnight. She believed me and commented that I looked A LOT better than I did Monday. I guess that’s not saying much as on Monday I was brought in a wheelchair because I didn’t have the energy to walk/ barely talk, but now I was able to walk and actually have a conversation. She prescribed me anti-biotic, which I will be on for a week, and anti-cramping meds for when I eat.

I’m still low energy, and have been in bed since Sunday night. It is now Saturday. It’s still hard for me to eat but I am getting better each day, a little at a time. I just want to be better. I want to not be in bed. I want to travel. I want to like eating again. I want to be able to walk 20 mins to class without needing to rest.

Ghana has not disillusioned me yet!

I’m ready to keep going on this African Adventure! Health come back to me!

Lots of love,

Annabelle