Day 3: The day DISASTER STRUCK

Day 3 is one that is difficult for me to recount as it is one that I tried so hard to block out as soon as it was over. So, I briefly mentioned at the end of yesterday’s blog that I was not feeling 100%. This took a turn for the worse overnight apparently and the morning of day 3, I woke up and immediately got sick. With my head permanently glued to the toilet all I could think about was how long this was going to last. Also, being sick away from a place that you feel really comfortable made the situation worse. This was not how I imagined the day and wanted more than anything to just feel okay so that I didn’t have to miss anything. I stayed in bed all morning and by lunch time thought I was feeling significantly better.

Once reunited with my group at Yeneta, things took a turn for the worse again. As uncomfortable as I thought I was being sick at the guest house, feeling ill at in Yeneta Acadamy’s bathroom was 10 times worse. While my original plan was to ride the sickness out, the director of the Academy, Mrs. Terri, came into the bathroom and practically demanded that we take a trip to the hospital.

Let me just say this: this woman (Mrs. Terri), this wonderful woman, practically brought me back to life. From the second we stepped foot into the hospital, it was her way or the highway and she made sure that I got the treatment I needed as quickly and efficiently as possible. She took my arm and wove me through the hospital escorting me from room to room.

Around this point, you may be thinking “Woah Breanna, a hospital in a developing country? How was the care?”. I thought the exact same thing. It may be difficult to imagine getting blood drawn in a room with people watching or having to get shots while right behind a curtain in the same room is an elderly woman hooked up to some sort of ventilator. This may even seem unnerving, but in all honesty, it holds no light to the care I received. The doctor spoke explained everything to me in English and took all the necessarily actions to make sure there was nothing serious behind my illness.

To spare you all of the horrendous details, the doctor I spoke to essentially told me that my gastroparesis was making it difficult for me to process foods. Two shots of Lord only knows what in my lower back, blood being drawn, two types of medications, and sleeping the rest of the day and I was as good as new the next day!

Quote for the day (said to me by my doctor afraid that I thought my illness was something that I caught from the kids I had been around):

"Do not be afraid of the hugs and the kisses. It is our culture."