The Trials and Tribulations of Typhoid

Ok, so typhoid is not a cakewalk.

This is what I know about malaria, having had it twice 3 years ago: it makes you feel like utter crap. You are tired but you can’t sleep. Everything aches- your head, your back, your non-existent muscles, your bones, your limbs, your eyeballs…. You have no appetite but something deep inside of you tells you you’re hungry because all you’ve had for two days is a Snickers bar and a Coke. You feel nauseous and smells (all of them) make it worse. You’re usually in a tropical climate without amenities so you’re hot, feverish, bored, and generally blah (a commonly used medical term in my family). What’s funny about all of these symptoms is that it’s not the actual malaria that makes you feel this way but rather the medicine that is supposed to make you feel better causing all of these maladies. The medicine lasts 3 days.

On the fourth day you feel like the sun has started shining again. You feel stronger and light-hearted. Your pants are looser and you’re enjoying the fact that you lost 5 lbs but also don’t feel guilty about the quantity of food you plan on eating during the day because you’re famished after not eating the previous 3 days. You smile more and just generally feel happy. There’s a bounce in your step and although you may have to take a nap from using the excess energy you just re-acquired too quickly, you happily tell people you feel SO MUCH BETTER!

This is what I know about typhoid- jack shit. I thought I knew it but I don’t. Typhoid is trickier. With malaria, I know that after the 3 days of pills I will most likely feel better. I thought the same thing about typhoid. I took all of my pills. The Monday after the beach I thought I was exhausted because I had spent the weekend traveling, getting too much sun (so much in fact that a woman who I thought was trying to sell me something and I was politely ignoring, followed me so she could get a picture of the radioactive-red white woman), and sleeping too little on Saturday night. On Tuesday I thought I just had the blahs. I tend to feel that way on Tuesdays after over overexerting myself on Mondays. On this same Tuesday, Sister Mary strongly suggested that I return to the clinic for another test. Meanwhile, my co-worker was feeling off as well. Between the both of us, we had the symptoms of typhoid but individually one of us was tired and the other had a runny tummy. I won’t go into specifics but horrific things happen in the bathroom when you have typhoid. Everyone is different in how they exhibit the symptoms and I felt lucky that I was not reproducing a horror movie on my bathroom visits. Nevertheless, claiming too much work (it really was a busy work week) we deflected Sister’s instructions, I mean suggestions, and promised to go to the clinic the next day.

Wednesday morning I knew something was wrong. I didn’t sleep well the night before, was nauseous, and had no appetite. Me not having an appetite is a big deal because I’m usually thinking about the next meal while washing up the previous meal’s dishes. I rolled into work late looking like death, managed to choke down a banana and a cup of tea, and didn’t fight Sister when she hustled us into the truck to the clinic. My co-worker was having a good day and had a big smile on her face. She felt fine, slept well, and wasn’t recreating cinematographic movies in the bathroom anymore. We again, guiltily, walked past the hundred people waiting and received tests. We returned to work for one more hour of internet and electricity and then got coconuts and a ride home.

On Thursday, I woke up fine. I had a class to teach. I was able to eat breakfast. I was ready to face the day. Sister called me and I asked how she was. “Oh, I’m fine but you’re not.” Apparently, my typhoid levels were concerning and she was having the driver pick my co-worker and me up and to take us to the hospital. “But I feel fine and I have to teach at the university today. Should I call in a substitute?” “I should think so,” was the clipped response. I was picked up by the driver and brought to the school to pick up my co-worker. Before we were put back in the truck, I was given my first and definitely not my last fiery lecture by this tiny Irish nun (later in the week she referred to the both of us as idiots). “You should have listened to me and gotten tested earlier. I’ve been here forty years. I think I know something about typhoid!” Her Irish brogue got stronger as she continued her tirade.  I’ve witnessed this sweet Sister get mad at other people but have never experienced any nuns’ wrath myself. I felt both chastised and the overwhelming urge to giggle. Luckily for my safety, I managed to suppress the second impulse.

Once we were safely tucked into the truck with nowhere to go, Sister Mary dropped the big news that we’d probably need drips. Having been stuck with needles for other medical purposes before in my life, I wasn’t worried about it, finding the entire experience amusing. My co-worker on the other hand got a caged animal look in her eye and immediately tensed up. We were ushered into the hospital and happily watched the news about the Queen’s impending jubilee while we waited. Sister secretly slipped into the doctor’s office and then came out with a knowing smirk. “You both need a drip.” Then this tiny slip of a woman wrestled my healthier sized co-worker back into the hospital as she tried to escape. The doctor in charge of us, also thwarted escape attempts by keeping up friendly conversation and pushing us into a hospital room.

The entire experience sounds scarier than it actually was. We, being employees of the infamous Sister Mary, were treated to one of the two air conditioned rooms in the hospital, which also happened to have a TV. To ease any discomfort or fear, the nurses sent in two visiting English doctors. We had each other for moral support and our own bathroom. Gearoid came with a Snickers, a Diet Coke (Diet Coke in Makeni was truly the highlight of my week!) and snarky comments (these comments were about how lucky we were to be in this room and the conditions experienced by the general population in the rest of the hospital. I did have massive white guilt but once again it was sadly suppressed by the comforts I was receiving. I swear my soul gets darker each day!). We each received 4 IV bags with antibiotics. She got to nap and listen to music while I was able to amuse myself with my Kindle and Bossypants by Tina Fey while CNN aired in the background. We joked with each other and made inappropriate comments that had the nurses amused (not so much by what we said but more by our uncontrollable giggling). It was a relaxing comfortable day- with of course the exception of a needle in my hand. I had some minor side effects but generally left the hospital 4 hours later with a bag of Tylenol and a bruise on my hand. 

The first time around- pills and coconut water

The second time around- 4 IV bags

I also received some amazing medical advice from one of the English doctors. What happened with my co-worker and I is that we had shared a water bottle the week before when we had low levels of typhoid. Our “alarmingly” high levels of typhoid were pretty similar and we only learned in the hospital that we can pass our typhoid back and forth (I know for a fact she didn’t take all of her tablets so I’m blaming this all on her). This new information had Gearoid worried so I asked the doctor if I could kiss my boyfriend without passing the typhoid. She paused for a moment and said matter-of-factly, “ Just don’t wipe your butt, touch your mouth, and then kiss him.” This new precaution has completely killed the romance in our relationship! (ßinsert sarcastic tone because I don’t want people to misinterpret the previous statement as fact.)

I don’t think I accidently ate more poop and got typhoid again. My low numbers just grew bigger. Most likely due to a lack of rest (and bottle sharing). The one thing I learned about typhoid is that it is highly unpredictable. One day you’re fine so you live life normally and push yourself to catch up from being too tired to accomplish everything the day before. They next day you suffer the consequences of the previous day’s activity by literally dragging your feet while walking and leaning on walls to support yourself during routine conversations with people. You’ll wake up one day and have a super healthy appetite and the next day you can barely keep down your coconut water. After the hospital, I spent the next few days in bed watching movies and reading books. I would go out for a few hours of activity and social interaction but would return exhausted. I think I’m getting better. My bedtime of 8:30 has slowly increased to 9:45PM. I’m listening to my body and resting up.

See I really am ok! This was taken 2 days after the hospital visit.

Tropical Diseases in Tropical Locales (posted late due to a tropical disease)

Last Monday started out really well. My work colleague and I called and reserved rooms on the beach for the weekend. We giggled excitedly over our respective laptops and chatted about the upcoming weekend and how long this work week would be. The next day I found out I had typhoid. Over the past weekend I had what I thought was a bout of food poisoning and believed my exhaustion was due to the heat. The lovely Irish nun who I work for gently bullied me into a truck and took me to a clinic another nun in her order ran. Arriving at the clinic with a renowned nun, Sister Mary has been in Sierra Leone for almost 40 years, allowed me the privilege of moving ahead of the overflowing waiting room and into the testing room where I gave enough blood for malaria and typhoid tests. I then returned to work hoping for the best.

Two hours later the results were in and revealed I had a small level of typhoid in my system. What immediately annoyed and disgusted me was that somehow someone’s poop had gotten into me. That’s how you get typhoid, by pretty much eating poop. I made my way back to the clinic and received six different types of pills that needed to be taken twice a day for 5 days. I then returned to work to be gently bullied back into a vehicle and taken home. Before arriving home, the driver stopped and bought me some coconuts. Drinking fresh coconut water was also on the menu of my health care plan. Whole coconuts still in the husk are sold individually. Before you get your coconut, the woman chops off the top and you sip the clear-ish water right from the fruit. When the water is gone, you can give the coconut back to the woman and she will machete the fruit out for you. One thing I quickly learned about coconuts here is that the fruit is not necessarily the dry crunchy fruit you get in the West. Many fresh coconuts have what is called “jelly” and the fruit is pretty much a slippery white floppy thing. Sounds appealing right? If you don’t have an issue with the texture of food, it’s not bad.

After our coconut stop, the driver then stopped at the grocery store so I could load up on feel good foods. This primarily consisted of a Snickers bar, juice, and a beer for Gearoid so he would leave my Snickers bar alone (this plan, unfortunately, didn’t work). I spent the next several days taking pills and naps. I still went to work but left early. Concerned co-workers wanted to rush me to the hospital (local people get really fearful when foreigners get local illnesses) but seriously the only symptom I had was exhaustion. Typhoid turned out to be a great excuse to sleep in, take naps, and eat lots of coconuts. Compared to malaria, which I had twice the last time I was in Sierra Leone, typhoid was a cakewalk (this would later prove to be wrong, but that’s another blog post) and the week which I believed would be slow flew by.

               By the end of the week, we had done enough logistical juggling and Jedi mind magic against the rainclouds to get ourselves in a van with 10 other people and left late Saturday afternoon for the beach. The 2 ½ hour drive was uneventful but the excitement we had really began to blossom when the ocean appeared on the left and the mountains on the right. Despite everything that makes this country so difficult and frustrating, it has an amazingly beautiful landscape and you often have to let go of the difficulties and frustrations to realize it. Gearoid commented himself on the ride to the beach how beautiful and green everything is in Sierra Leone after a good rain and how the last time we were in the country he was too angry and frustrated to appreciate the beauty.

We turned off the highway onto the requisite ridiculously bad road to make the last brief leg of the journey (I swear, there is a conspiracy to keep the beaches as beautiful as possible by making it almost impossible to get to them by not fixing the ludicrously bad roads that actually lead to the sand and surf) and were dismayed by the giant beach party taking place. Salonean hipsters wearing swimsuits and scarves, socks pulled up to their knees, and an assortment of other oddball accessories danced in the surf to a Rihanna song that would play no less than 20 more times on the giant oversized speakers. Beer bottles, water packets, and other trash indicated where they had partied and where they would continue to party. With disappointment on our faces, we made our way to the place we would be staying. Our host Levi, assured us the partygoers would be gone soon and dinner would be ready in 45 minutes (meaning 1.5 hours). We settled into our respective shacks, had a quick drink, and then walked along the beach as far away from the partiers as possible and took a sunset dip in the ocean. It was beautiful. Let me say- I am a complete water baby. I love the water and had planned to spend the entire weekend floating along with the waves, even contemplating forgoing dinner to stay in the surf.

               That didn’t go over well with my companions, mainly Gearoid, so I was peer-pressured out of the ocean but was rewarded with a delicious dinner of freshly caught and grilled lady fish, rice and stew, and fries. We spent the rest of the evening singing loudly to familiar tunes, having a few (or more) drinks, and enjoying each other’s company. At one point, we made the journey back to the beach and took an almost midnight swim. Parents and grandparents reading this post, please don’t get worried or upset. I wouldn’t be writing this part at all if I wasn’t safely back at work but I also fully acknowledge that it wasn’t the smartest idea any of us have ever had. It was amazingly beautiful though. We picked a stretch of beach that the party-goers had ignored. Gearoid, being less inclined to swim in the best of situations, agreed to stand on shore watching our stuff and shined a flashlight on us in the ocean. The water was calm, the sky was clear, the stars were endless, and behind Gearoid I could see the outlines of two tall impressive palm trees. In the water we noticed that our movements were igniting the phosphorescence of plankton.  It really was a tropical paradise.

               The next morning was considerably less magical. I hadn’t slept well, due to not having imbibed as much as my companions which made me cognizant enough of the fact that the mattress and pillow sucked, everything was slightly damp and sandy, and we were in a shack and an intruder could come in and steal my beloved Kindle despite the fact I was cuddling with it. It turns out I had imbibed enough to be more than slightly paranoid. The next morning, the beach had less appeal than it did in twilight. The brightness of the day showed the trash that partygoers had left, the mange on local dogs hoping for a scrap of food, and the woman taking a dump in our eye line behind some rocks we had planned on exploring later in the day. I was a less charming version of myself feeling like I was covered with grit and sand, functioning on about 2 hours of sleep, and after it took 3 hours for the host to make us a breakfast of cold toast and eggs. I escaped the group and found a couple of tables and chairs down the beach and stared at the gorgeous skyline. I swam in the ocean to clean the grit and sand away as well as my foul temperament. After a few more hours of the beach and a delicious lunch, we all became friendly again and loaded into the van to make the hot dusty journey back to Makeni. Like all experiences here, it was an adventure with both good and bad elements. Would I do it again? Definitely.