On Being Sick in Africa and other stories

Being sick in Africa is kind of like being sick in Canada. You feel awful, you wish it would go away, you sweat, you're freezing cold, the whole schtick. But the differences I discovered were several. First off, despite the overwhelming evidence that you have a simple viral flu-like illness, you consider all kind of weird and wonderful diagnoses for yourself. Perhaps days and days spent on a ward where everyone is considered to have malaria regardless of whether tests confirm it has made me a little paranoid about it, but I will admit to taking a quick test from someone who had one to confirm it as negative. Second main difference - there's nothing to do. This is a complaint of people in Canada as well, but frankly, I dreamed about sitting on the couch watching TV during a lot of my illness. Third main difference - lack of comfort food. A bowl of chicken soup, I'm convinced, could have cured me instantly. Toast... such a simple thing. But the bread here is kind of pre-stale and there's not toaster. So it had to make do.

At this point, I mostly sound like I'm whining, but I'm back to full health so it's all sort of moot anyway.

A followup to the story of Edimus. As of this very day, Edimus is moving out of Kagando Hospital into a nearby orphanage. His mother has agreed to sign the papers to let him do that, and money has been raised to pay his bills here, his bills at the orphanage, get him some new clothes and a mattress and so on. There he'll get fed every day, get to go to school and should hopefully grow up happy and healthy. A bit of extra money is being given to his mother so she can go visit him from time to time. Perhaps not the most perfect way for the story to work itself out, but a reasonable compromise given the situation. We're all sad to see him go, but happy that he'll be in good hands.

My time at the hospital is nearly over at this point, and as of Sunday we'll be off to explore bits of Uganda and Tanzania. Hopefully I'll find time to write again!