Fever Dreams

I got sick last week. So now I know what malaria feels like. There's at least one authentic experience chalked up. Sorry for the late posting.

Originally I thought it was the Kenke, which was a new food I'd tried the day before. My days have generally settled into a routine where I go out to a community in the morning, shoot some footage of whatever work or investigation we're doing there, and edit in the office AC after lunch. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to go - to Kuokuo, where we'd like to put that new borehole - but there wasn't much chance to replicate the meeting that was going to take place with the community leaders. I rode out on the back of Samson's scooter with my guts tying themselves in knots.

Once we reached the community, I got some basic shots of the meeting, Samson, etc. I'd been feeling steadily worse, and had let Samson know I was probably going to throw up at some point. I checked to make sure if that was going to offend anyone in the village. It would probably be OK, he said. In the end, it didn't come up.

I spent the rest of the meeting lying on a bench in the shade, which the community had thoughtfully dragged out for me. If they hadn't, I'd have taken the ground. By the time the meeting concluded, I was pretty weak. The ground was sand and it looked pretty comfortable. My head was spinning and I was looking at the motorbike unsteadily, not quite sure that I'd be up for the long ride back to Tamale.

Samson was kind enough to let me hang out under a tree near the main road for about half an hour, waiting for a taxi that never came. By this time, I was pretty sure I had heatstroke, or something. I felt hot all over. Eventually I just climbed up on the back of his scooter and held on. Woozy, I stared closely at the small hairs on the back of his neck as we drove to a Tamale hospital. I could see the sun in the small beads of sweat which hung off them. When the bike pulled, I'd sway forward and my helmet would click gently against the one he was wearing.

The hospital had no AC, just three slow fans. Everything was cash up front. I sat in a heap on a bench in the corner. Samson had a friend who happened to be visiting the hospital and they told me what to do and when to do it. The doctor was on the phone, organizing a construction project. The lab tech used a fresh needle - I checked it out of the corner of my eye. They stapled the printout to itself for privacy, but not very well. I could read 'positive' and 'seen' and 'malaria parasites'. Samson loaned me seven cedis when I ran out of money to pay the miscellaneous fees.

When we went to get the meds that the doctor had written out for me, the ATM ate my debit card. There was a policy, apparently, against returning debit cards. I told the lady that I had malaria and couldn't afford medicine without it, which wasn't entirely true. I stopped short of telling her that she'd as good as killed me. That seemed like overkill.

I stumbled after Samson looking for a bank that would take my VISA. No luck. Tried every bank in central Tamale. Went home to get money. Samson went to get the drugs on my prescription. I passed out at home in a pool of my own sweat.

After that, not much. Took the drugs, felt terrible, slept fitfully overnight and was fine the next morning. No reeneactments of Heart of Darkness, thanks to at least five different anti-malarials. Isn't technology grand?