I'm a real Tanzanian! Warning:

My apologies for my online absence for over a week but this time I have a legitimate excuse. It only took seven months but I finally got malaria this past week. Yup, those anti-malarials I’ve been taking faithfully every morning since touching down in Africa failed me. In all fairness, the box does have a disclaimer stating it’s only 99% effective. The longer you stay in a malaria zone, the higher your chances of it taking hold at some point.
I woke up Thursday morning feeling ok but by early afternoon I was in bed with a serious fever, at least, I hoped that was all it was. I spent the night wrapped in a fleece jacket, yoga pants, and socks under a quilt, freezing. The next minute, I was so hot, I could barely stand having a sheet on top of me. Coupled with frequent trips to the bathroom, let’s just say I had a rough night. The next morning, I announced to my host parents I had malaria and would they be able buy some malaria medication for me. My host father and my boss insisted I get tested first and I agreed. We took a taxi to a private clinic – it was very clean and well-run, reassuring to me in my state of illness. Well, I managed to get through the blood test but as I waited for the results, I got seriously nauseous. The last thing I remember was hanging over the rail trying to keep steady and then I was sitting on the floor. My host parents picked me up and leaned me against the railing and I collapsed again. This time, the doctor and a nurse joined in to carry me to a nearby bed. I think that’s the first (and second) time I’ve ever fainted...
Turns out, my glucose levels were too low and my heart rate was sky high. I hadn’t eaten much for the last 24 hours because I had no appetite. The doctor immediately put me on a glucose drip and, lucky me, I got to spend the rest of the day in hospital. I was well-taken care of: my host parents stayed with me for most of the afternoon and my boss plus some other co-workers dropped by on their way to town to check on me. My host mum went home to get me some fruit, chai, and fresh juice in an effort to perk me up and get me eating again. One of my students accompanied her and both of them made certain I was comfortable and had everything I needed. Thankfully, my stay did not involve a hospital gown  The doctor let me go later that evening and I was just happy to be home again and in my own bed. What was supposed to be a quick visit to the clinic to get a malaria test and some medication turned into an all-day affair. As far as hospital experiences go, this one was pretty good although I’m not keen to repeat it any time soon.
Saturday morning, I woke up to find my co-workers and students waiting to visit me. By early afternoon, I’d welcomed a steady stream of well-wishers. They were all concerned after it was announced in chapel that their English teacher was in hospital. I reassured them I was on the mend and thanked them for their prayers. Then the rash hit, big red spots that spread all over my body and itched like crazy! At first, I thought I’d have to go back to the clinic immediately. Then I calmed down and texted another team member who’s a nurse. I guessed (correctly it turns out) that I was having an allergic reaction to the malaria medication I had popped that morning. Sure enough, it turns out I’m allergic to sulfa. Who knew? All my life, I thought I wasn’t allergic to anything and it takes getting malaria in Tanzania and being prescribed the one malaria medication that has sulfa in it to discover my allergy! 24 hours later, the red spots disappeared and I was feeling relieved that the worst of my ordeal was now behind me.

I returned to class the following Monday, much to everyone’s amazement (I think my students were hoping for a longer English break :-). The internet’s been acting wonky for over a week so I didn’t have a chance to email anyone, including my mum, about what was happening. Now you’re up to date on the latest. I am so thankful for all the prayers that were offered up on my behalf, even if you didn’t know what was going on. I know that God had a clear hand in bringing me to the hospital when He did. I am so blessed to have people here and at home who care so much about me and take such good care of me. Thank-you!