the hospital

Disclaimer: I'm fine. Please don't worry about me (too much).

Sr. Theodosia had been on retreat since Tuesday, and the school definitely missed her. The students enjoy having her around- she's their mother when they are here. The staff's spirits are lower. Things become disorganized and since our authority is away, they have to handle all issues alone. And, of course, I missed her too. The void we felt here is great, but in the same breath, I'm glad she gets to spend some time away from school, where she works from 5 am to 11 pm every single day.

The day she left, I noticed a rash appearing on my trunk. Since the cat just arrived, I was immediately worried it was fleas, but didn't see any crawling around anywhere. In the next two days, the rash spread to my back and my hips and legs, and Sr. Martina, the bursar, the school nurse, and I decided we should seek treatment at the hospital.

Sr. Martina has mixed feelings about the doctors at the Mambu-Bafut health center, so she decided it would be better for me to go to the hospital in Ntassen, Bamenda. One of my colleagues, also a nun, accompanied me, and Colins, the school driver, drove us comfortably. After a 45 minute car ride, we arrived at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Hospital. There weren't many patients around, thankfully, so we didn't have to wait long. A man seated at a small table took my name, blood pressure, weight, and pulse. Then I waited in line on a bench with the other patients consulting in order to meet with the doctor. Every 15 minutes, the door to his office would open, a patient would exit, and the next person on the bench would hurry in. An hour into this, I got to see my doctor, whose name is 5 foreign words and too many syllables long to remember. He was very thorough- asked me about my family health history, examined the rash, and asked me many pointed questions to narrow down the problem. Then he sent me to the lab with a sheet which would tell the tech what tests to do. I literally went into the lab, where I had a blood draw next to the centrifuge and microscope. The tech did not wear gloves, but thankfully he used a little alcohol to clean my arm and a clean needle. Then I took a urine test in an old, used cardboard-based cup. I peed in an empty hospital room toilet, and there was no tp, no soap, and no water. In a hospital room. Thank God I'm not actually sick.

Anyways, results came back, and there was no infection found that could cause this rash. However, I did test positive for malaria. I've been taking it easy since I found out the news but my health is fine and my only symptom thus far is exhaustion, which I've pretty much been battling since I got here. I was prescribed some allergy medications to help the "reaction" and bought them at a pharmacy in town, with the assistance of my doctor, who hitched a ride with us when we left. About a week later, Sr. Theodosia is back and the rash is slowly healing- but not quickly enough for me to sleep comfortably. And the diagnosis is definitely not satisfactory to me- what the hell is this thing? Ahh Africa. Thanks for the rash! Thanks for the malaria! Thanks for all the attention to personal hygiene.....oh wait.

Love,
Catherine

p.s. the hand-washing thing is pretty disgusting. very, very, VERY FEW people wash their hands after the toilet or before meals, and most people don't even have sinks anywhere near their kitchen or toilet. And it's customary to greet everybody by shaking their hands. I shudder. Thank god for hand sanitizer.