Malaria with a capital V
Heat radiating from my body, sweat pouring from my skin, dehydrated, my head pounding, stomach making unsettling gurgling noises, my body heavy with muscular pain, no appetite, delirious… And you can’t even begin to imagine what happens when I try to stand up.
This time only a fortnight ago I was writhing in self-pity and horrid, feverish Malaria. I do not wish this upon anyone, enemies included.
And lucky for me, I contracted the wicked one. The ‘Vivax’ one. The one you get for life. The one that hides in your liver and rears its ugly head at the most inconvenient times. And the tragic part – it can have adverse effects on my drinking ability. Sigh. No more Tequila Stuntmen for me…
My synapses feel as though they’ve only just recovered to near 100% but still my train of thought is often interrupted and derailed mid-sentence. Stringing sentences together in English is challenging enough but I’m sure my Pidgin makes no sense whatsoever at the moment, let alone the local Kuanua dialect.
I cursed that rotten malarial mosquito with every droplet of sweat that covered my body with unrelenting moisture. I cursed the sun for being so hot. I cursed the bed for being so low to the ground. I cursed the cold water for being so far away in the fridge. I cursed my head for thumping so loudly. I cursed PNG for being so far away from home. I cursed the rooster for being a rooster.
I’d made up my mind that even with five months under my belt, a whole two years seemed impossible. I contemplated whether I could even last until Christmas. I needed to get out.
While hoisting up my little white flag, I was inundated with support and strength in the form of kulau (coconut) juice, many-a-series of text messages from dear friends back home, frank words of wisdom from mama, home-made Indian cuisine, promised Australian newspaper clippings, a caring little brother, an emailed nursing hand-hold and many cups of tea.
And this is exactly why I’m here. Still. For all those of who’ve taught me life’s lessons, given me life’s strength and unravelled life’s metaphors, this is for you. It is my way of showing gratitude for simply being alive. And almost well.
Lesson 20: Be grateful.
This time only a fortnight ago I was writhing in self-pity and horrid, feverish Malaria. I do not wish this upon anyone, enemies included.
And lucky for me, I contracted the wicked one. The ‘Vivax’ one. The one you get for life. The one that hides in your liver and rears its ugly head at the most inconvenient times. And the tragic part – it can have adverse effects on my drinking ability. Sigh. No more Tequila Stuntmen for me…
My synapses feel as though they’ve only just recovered to near 100% but still my train of thought is often interrupted and derailed mid-sentence. Stringing sentences together in English is challenging enough but I’m sure my Pidgin makes no sense whatsoever at the moment, let alone the local Kuanua dialect.
I cursed that rotten malarial mosquito with every droplet of sweat that covered my body with unrelenting moisture. I cursed the sun for being so hot. I cursed the bed for being so low to the ground. I cursed the cold water for being so far away in the fridge. I cursed my head for thumping so loudly. I cursed PNG for being so far away from home. I cursed the rooster for being a rooster.
I’d made up my mind that even with five months under my belt, a whole two years seemed impossible. I contemplated whether I could even last until Christmas. I needed to get out.
While hoisting up my little white flag, I was inundated with support and strength in the form of kulau (coconut) juice, many-a-series of text messages from dear friends back home, frank words of wisdom from mama, home-made Indian cuisine, promised Australian newspaper clippings, a caring little brother, an emailed nursing hand-hold and many cups of tea.
And this is exactly why I’m here. Still. For all those of who’ve taught me life’s lessons, given me life’s strength and unravelled life’s metaphors, this is for you. It is my way of showing gratitude for simply being alive. And almost well.
Lesson 20: Be grateful.
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