Many of you heard, many haven't, that, yes, within just two months of being here, I contracted Dengue fever. Dengue (pronounced Dayn-Gay) is a tropical fever that is passed around by those pesky little buggers Australians like to call Mozzies (a.k.a. Mosquitos). There is nothing you can take to prevent yourself from getting Dengue-- no injection or handy little pill. You just cover yourself with bug spray and hope for the best (but for those of you who know tropical mosquitos, they'll eat through even the strongest bug repellant, so it's not a surefire way to avoid getting bit). Just over two weeks ago, while I was mindng my own business, a dengue-carrying mosquito decided to dine on my feet and get me sick. It takes about 3-5 days after getting bit for the symptoms to show up, but when they hit, boy do they hit.
Tuesday, September 11 (wow, 9-11, hadn't realized that til now) I awoke with the slightest tinge of a headache. Nothing major, it's common for me to get headaches, so I didn't think much of it. I had breakfast, went to the art site, greeted one of our students and went into my office to pray and look at some art books. Within an hour I started feeling really weepy and homesick-- more than normal-- and I remember thinking it was weird. In about another hour, all of my joints felt like they were on fire. At about this time, Francisco (who had been sick for a few days) showed up with his family and I proceeded to play with his kids for about another hour, all the while feeling incredibly weak and with a headache on full-blast. Thankfully, it was time for lunch and I told Fran that I wasn't feeling well and was going home and reminded him that I had Spanish class in the afternoons now, so I wouldn't be back that day. He said he wouldn't either, so we locked up and left.
I did make it to Spanish class, but I only lasted about a half hour and then had to go home. A few people speculated that I might have some kind of virus, but in my spirit I knew I had Dengue. I tried not to panic, but just went home, slept, tried to keep hydrated. My roommate was away kidsitting for the week, so I was all alone *sniff*. By Wednesday afternoon, everything hurt. Not only did I feel like my joints were on fire, but it felt like I was being pulled limb from limb and I had a terrible pain behind my eyes. Luckily, at this point, Cheryl, our field director's wife, called and said she was coming to get me and take me to her house. Thank God, too, because when we got to her house, she took my temperature and it was 103 ( I do not know what that is in celcius for all of my foreign friends)!! She also called Alba, one of our doctors on staff, who had me come right away down to the local clinic where she works to get a blood test done (this would determine whether or not I had Dengue). Alba said she could tell by all my other symptoms (fiery joints, achy muscles, headache with extreme pain behind the eyes, crazy high fever) that I had it, but the blood test confirmed it. Though my blood platelette count was normal, there was something else that was low (can't remember) and so I was ordered to bed (duh) and Cheryl was in charge of trying to get my fever down by pumping me full of fluids and giving me Tylenol every 4 hours, plus some other powdered medicine every 12 hours. For the first 24 hours I drank Gatorade and water, but apparently the dye in gatorade isn't good when you are sick, so then it was water and (yuck) Pedialyte. Now for anyone who has been subject to Pedialyte... my sympathies. For three days I layed in bed in constant pain, fever spiking up and down and delirium dreams to boot. I had one dream where a group of Haitian women ghosts were telling me I hadn't paid my rent on the right side of the bed and they needed the space to braid hair. It was hours of arguing and I finally got out of bed and went and sat in the chair in the room, I was so out of it. Finally, on day 5, the achiness started to lessen and my fever was staying at 99. I thought I was over the worst. I was wrong. Apparently, I had contracted a string of Dengue that causes you to break out in a rash on your hands, arms, feet and legs and cause an itch so bad you want to die. I had to go down to the clinic again to get another blood test, a shot of hydro-cortisone and get a prescription for hydro-cortisone pills. None of this worked. I didn't sleep all that night. The next day I had to go down to the clinic to have another blood test (they monitor your blood every day to make sure your platelettes don't crash) and, sure enough, the rash had caused my platelettes to dive bomb. This is when I was admitted to the clinic to be hooked up to an IV. I was in the clinic for two days. I had people staying with me round the clock (which was a huge blessing). Right when I was admitted, Alba authorized for me to get a shot of Benadryl which would (theoretically) knock me out and help stop the itching. No such luck. I am one of those weird ones who can resist the powers of Benadryl apparently. I just laid there in bed feeling like I had cement poured over me. I couldn't really talk and I couldn't really move, but I was wide awake and every tiny sound seemed EXTREMELY loud. And the itching... the benadryl seemed to exacerbate the problem... which, without being able to move my hands to scratch was absolute torture!! The Benadryl wore off after a few hours and I was able then to talk with Alicia, 16-yr. old daughter of our field director. She kept me company until her mom arrived with dinner and to stay with me the night. Did I mention I had people with me around the clock? We have an incredibly faithful staff here with Students International. Not only did I always have someone staying with me, many of the staff came in to visit and pray for me. Thank you, Jesus. Well, I was in the clinic for two days getting my blood platelettes back up and getting routine injections of hydro-cortisone which slowly but surely reduced the itching and enabled me to sleep. Dominican clinics are very loud places. They are also, for Dominican standards, kept fairly clean. But, the best thing about being in a Dominican clinic is the tea they serve you in the mornings-- it's sort of Chammomile/cinnamon/anise-y. I do miss that.
So, I've been back home for the last few days mostly sleeping. I have had a normal temp, no achiness and no itching, but have been incredibly weak and tired. I have been told it can take up to a month to get my normal energy back. And I've also been told that once you get Dengue, you are immune to it for up to a year. Let's pray this is true. I wouldn't wish Dengue on anybody.
As for other stuff... transistion to life here continues to be hard for me. Please pray for me in this area. I have never done well with any kind of transition in my life-- I like to be rooted, comfortable, and be surrounded by the familiar and predictable, where I have control over the spontenaity in my life. While I can appreciate many of the new things here, it gets waring having so many little things be different. Mostly I miss my family and friends and the ocean. At the art site, Fran and I are in the very beginning stages of planning a new art program. He has been dreaming of this for over a year now, so I am just jumping in and trying to figure out my role (which mainly is being his assistant-- getting the curriculum together, signing up new students, etc). Dominicans don't take art very seriously, so it is hard to get and keep students on a regular basis. We do have a couple of students who have progressed to the point where they can make paintings to sell. Fran's wife, Yeimi, has a store in town where these paintings are on display. However, when it is not tourist season (i.e. summer) things just don't sell. It can be discouraging for the students who are really looking forward to selling some of their work. As well, they need to sell some work in order to buy paints to paint more stuff, so a couple of them are just 'waiting' and come in on occasion to draw and improve their skills. Anyway, you can pray for Fran and I as we prepare this new program to draw new students.
Because I have missed the first 2 weeks of Spanish class, I am not going to continue (since it's only a 5 week program). My roommate is taking it and so I will study with her in the evenings to hone my skills, but basically, it is just going to take time to pick it up. Spanish is one area where I am still struggling. There are many different accents here and it is very challenging for me trying to understand. For example, Fran, who is very expressive in his speech, I can understand well. His wife I can't understand at all. It makes getting close to her very difficult because communication is nearly impossible. I thought I'd be picking it up fast, but I'm not. This is perhaps the most frustrating part of being here. I love language. I love to communicate and when I can't express myself, I get very frustrated and I feel very isolated. Our staff pastor, Nate, just keeps saying to me: "This too shall pass." And so I keep holding onto that, knowing that no dark night of the soul lasts forever and that, one day, I will be on those mountaintops with the Lord again looking back at everthing He has done during this period I'm going through. My prayer as of late has been, "Lord, put a new song in my heart."
So, to all you singers out there, join me in singing praise to our King who is Worthy. Jesus is coming back and we will stand before Him on that day, pure, spotless, with a beautiful history, with a grand love story to sing about for all eternity. He never said it was going to be easy, but He did promise to be with us. And I know He's here.
