Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Week 3 - Lots of Interesting Things about My Stomach

Another week has come and gone. Right now I’m sitting on my bed (I'm writing this Monday night) and listening to the sounds of one of the many games of soccer going on at the concha (paved court) next door to me. Sounds of soccer, barking dogs, and over-laden trucks whizzing by have been the constant soundtrack to my world since I came to Guatemala. It’s a mixed blessing, I guess. On one hand, they’re all familiar sounds, and on some level I can project myself home for a couple minutes when I feel I need it. On the other, it’s super loud, typically goes on all night long, and constantly wakes me up when I’m trying to sleep.

There really has only been one noteworthy thing to happen to me since I last wrote. On Tuesday, I ate street food for the first time. Walking through the market in Antigua (on the way home from a day at the Peace Corps headquarters), several friends and I stopped for papoosa, which I think can probably be best described as a quesadilla with coleslaw on top. It came fresh off the grill, and tasted amazing. Unfortunately, the Peace Corps warns us about eating such things. By Wednesday morning I knew what they were talking about.

It started as a minor discomfort, a subtle sense that things were not as they should be. By noon this malaise had turned into a headache, a fever, and a whole lot of gastrointestinal distress. I didn’t accept it for what it was. “It’s just a bit of stomach irritation from breakfast,” I thought, “it’ll go away soon.”

But it didn’t. By that evening I was shivering from fever and frequenting the bathroom at least twice an hour. We had to go back to the Peace Corps headquarters on Thursday morning, and I was strongly considering not going. Only one thing made me pause to reconsider: Cell phones. The PC had promised us that we would get them on Thursday, and though they had promised us this very same thing every couple of days since we showed up in country, on this particular occasion I happened to believe them. I took my temperature before going to bed on Wednesday night, and it read over 100. “I’ll revaluate in the morning” I told myself.

Thursday morning came and I knew I was sick, but was unwilling to admit the extent of it. I had promised myself that I would go to Santa Lucia, but refused to be a whiner. I would not ask for special considerations. Luckily, my friends noticed that I had no color to my face and was generally miserable and when noon hit and I still hadn’t gone, they practically frog-marched me to the medical office.

One of our medical staff had no problem telling me that I was sick, a fact that I was still trying to avoid, and that I would need to give a stool sample. I won’t get into the nitty gritty, but let me just say there are an awful lot of “what ifs?” that go through your mind as you’re holding a tiny specimen cup under your ass in a third world country.

I finished, handed the container over, and three hours later had my results. I had a nasty trifecta: Bacterial diarrhea, Symptomatic Amebas, and Amebic Cysts (which apparently are little Ameba eggs. I also don’t know what happened to the “O” in “amoeba”, but none of the medical staff put it in, and so neither will I). I was assured that I did not have Amebic Dysentery, even though the symptoms are generally the same.

The cure? Pills. Large pills. Lots and lots of them. For quite a long time. I was immediately put on Ciprofloxacin, Tinidazole, and Iodoquinol. The first two are a fairly short regimen, just once or twice a day for 3 days. The third, however, is taken 3 times per day for 20 days. Twenty days! Add all those to my Chloroquine that I’m taking to prevent malaria, and my weekend had some pretty interesting dreams.

Even by Saturday morning I was feeling well enough to go with my language group and explore Antigua, the old colonial capital before it was moved to Guatemala City. While we’ve passed through it many times on the way to and from the Peace Corps office, this was the first opportunity we’d had to actually explore. It is a city that does not disappoint. The architecture is amazing, and the number of shops, restaurants, and curios are equally so. It’s a bit touristy, but definitely worth it. We stopped at a little café that gives discounts to Peace Corps volunteers, where we had the single most amazing breakfast I’ve ever eaten. I don’t know if it was because it was the first food I’d eaten in 3 days, or because we had stumbled on perhaps the only place in the country that serves fresh bagels, but it was glorious. Throwing caution to the wind, I had an egg, ham, cheese, and garlic cream cheese bagel and a latte made from Guatemala’s finest. The textures, flavors, and ambiance of the place made me want to cry from relief and satisfaction. I didn’t realize how stressful it had been being sick in a foreign place until I found myself feeling normal again.

I spent a little beyond my means—breakfast came to $4 dollars, including tip—but I would go back in a heartbeat. We strolled through the cobbled streets for the rest of the day, snapping photos and remarking on how cosmopolitan everything seemed compared to San Lorenzo. We stopped at a Jade museum, and I now know more about this semi-precious stone than I’ll ever need to. Even still, very cool.

I suppose I should probably wrap this post up. It’s 10pm and well beyond my bedtime. I should mention that at this point I feel totally fine, and am happily continuing to do what I need to with the Peace Corps. This has become the first of likely many (but hopefully not!) shitty events to befall me. Pun intended.

As usual, here’s the link to this week’s photos http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=sigrinj&target=ALBUM&id=5566117903988076129&authkey=Gv1sRgCP2rrrLNhuDsrgE&feat=email

No comments:

Post a Comment