Report to Casualty

Everybody has a few stories that define the embarrassing and hilarious side of life.  These stories somehow come up over and over again, sometimes with the benefit of making someone else feel better about whatever embarrassing and stressful situation they are currently in.  I have my fair share of said stories.  How the dachshund I was pet-sitting ate the enormous parrot I was also pet-sitting.  How I gave myself a whopping black eye with a student's trombone three minutes before our Christmas concert started.  How I broke my wrist doing synchronized zip-lining for a Lake Olympics competition when I was a chaperon at a junior high camp.  And now, why I had to report to casualty and get my rabies vaccine.

I hope you read my previous post Monkeying Around.  If not, you should read it now, just so this post makes sense.  See, I was hanging out with some monkey friends and one bit my thumb.  Not hard, not viciously, just enough to draw a little blood and release the corn I was hoarding.  But it was still a monkey bite.

Richard and I have read and heard from very reliable sources that these monkeys are regularly vaccinated by volunteer vets.  No worries!  But we just thought we'd get a stamp of approval from our doctor.  We called up.  "Ummm...a monkey bit you?  Was it wild?  Maybe you should just check in with the hospital right across the street and see what they say."  Way to pass the buck.

So we drive literally across the street into the parking lot of Aga Khan Hospital.  It is a very nice hospital with a very good reputation.  We come in a back entrance and ask the information desk lady who we should see to tell us if I even need to be seen.  "I'm sending you to casualty.  Take two lefts and check in there."

Excuse me? CASUALTY?  But I'm not DEAD! This is way worse than I thought! I assumed casualty was the Kenyan word for morgue.  Turns out it's the emergency room.

We checked in, took a number, paid for the doctor's visit before we saw her ($13), went to Triage Room 1 where the nurse nearly laughed when I told her I was bitten by a monkey, waited a bit more and then was called back to see the doctor.  She had never been to visit the monkeys in City Park, and looked a little incredulous that any person in their right mind would choose to go near a monkey, vaccinated or not.  Then she declared that since the money had not been carrying his rabies vaccine papers with him at the time of the incident, I was to get my rabies vaccine and a tetanus booster (which by the way, was the most painful part of the whole process).

A nurse named Perpetual gave me my jabs, as they are called here, and told me I was brave.  I guess that's one upside to this whole monkey business.  I made a date with Perpetual to give me my next jab in the rabies series on Saturday, then I go back Wednesday and finally Wednesday week.

The good news is, I can go back and feed those monkeys till they are round has barrels if I want, because I've got immunity.

And if a monkey ever bites you, let me know.  I've got your back on making you feel better about it.

Not a Bad Joke

Let me say at the outset that Richard deserves several gold stars for putting up with me and taking such good care of me.  Now we may proceed.

So a Kenyan, a Chinese and an American drove to the doctor's office yesterday.  I was the American, and we were going because I have been sick since Friday with fever and "other things."  I won't bring you into that part of my life, dear reader.  Anyway, the Surgery, as it's called is clear on the opposite side of Nairobi in a quaint place called Karen, about a bumpy hour away.  My doctor is dutch and very nice and knowledgeable and nearly bowled me out of my chair when she said, "Worst-case-scenario: Typhoid.  We can all get it."  Yum.

She sent me to get blood work down the hall and a shot for nausea so I could have some liquids. The head nurse is Kenyan, and she was in a Bible study with our village director for a long time, so we kind of chatted about that while I pretended she wasn't sticking a needle in my arm to suck my blood out.  The problem was, by the time she got to the nausea shot, we had used up our small talk.  She told me about five times that, "The shot is going to sting a little, well, a lot, I mean it really will hurt."  Lovely.  So jokingly I asked her to sing something in Kiswahili to take my mind off of it and I was surprised when she obliged.  How many nurses have done that for you?  And she didn't lie.  It did hurt a lot.

My two friends went to get my antibiotic from the Chemists (we don't have pharmacies) and left me at the Surgery to recover.  While I was in the waiting room, two British ladies were waiting for their friend, and a third lady walked in.  Put on your best high-British accent and read the following out loud:

LOVE-ly CAR-di, dear.

DO you Like it? (Hop around like a little crow and show off your sweater.)

VER-y DASH-ing.  Where-EVER did you GET it?

Anyway, their conversation warmed me up a lot and made me feel better.

Yesterday we called back to get the results of the blood work.  Thankfully, I do NOT have Typhoid.  Yay!  Unfortunately, I do have a bacterial infection of the abdomen.  Boo. So now I'm at home, day two of three of antibiotics and praying I'll be able to teach tomorrow.  We don't have substitutes, so all the other teachers are giving up their planning to cover my classes.  And Class 5 started a new novel today and I really wanted to be there.  I know, I'm a sick puppy.