grace.kindness.peace.disruption.pain.processing.rinse.repeat.have a nice day.

Oh the stories produced in the last few days! Oh the drama, the misery, the many emotions. How might I convey them all to you? Frankly put, I won't. And you would thank me if you only knew. If you want the short version, I got malaria. If you want the long version …

It was a beautiful Wednesday morning. Sadly though, both Micah and I were feeling under the weather, Micah much more so than I. Michelle was at the hospital receiving another IV drip to rehydrate her and to infuse her anti-malaria meds. Faye sat dutifully at her side, the ever-responsible leader. She called me to inform us that we'd be the only ones going to the Lighthouse program that day, as Cami was also under the weather. Upon hearing that Micah was ill she requested we join her at the hospital. After one more involuntary bathroom stop, Micah and I gave Ben a "good game" to wish him luck as the lone leader going to Lighthouse and we were off for the hospital.

You must understand that at this point that I thought I was playing the part of the concerned, loyal friend. My stomach was upset and I was tired, but I'd been up a few times during the night to visit the restroom. I had attributed the stomach woes to palm oil that I must had ingested and the tiredness to a poor night's rest. So, as the comparatively well friend, I tasked myself with hailing a taxi and providing comedic relief at the hospital.

The King Harmon Hospital is run by a group of Chinese doctors, one of whom we have known since our first week in Sierra Leone, though we met under much different circumstances. Dr. Charlie had taken care of Michelle and Faye by providing them with respite in his air conditioned office. The air was a little cold, but I was not going to complain. Michelle was feeling much better, which was good because we demanded to hear the whole story. Micah was ushered out to get a blood test and returned shortly to wait the half hour necessary for the results. I, feeling fairly fine, blended into the scenery and stoked the conversation.

As the time passed for Michelle's IV to empty and Micah's results to come, we played with the blood pressure cuff, read, dozed, and commented on how thankful we were that Michelle's illness showed up before we left for our trip up country. When Michelle finished her cocktail and Micah's results came back negative after quite a wait, we prepared to leave. Charlie inquired as to how I was feeling, but even then my condition was nothing out of the ordinary for a case of traveler's upset stomach. We left to go for a consoling lunch at an upscale restaurant on the hill with air conditioning (the real treat).

At Mamba Point restaurant we ate huge (a.k.a. American-sized) cheeseburgers and drank coke as we lounged in overstuffed chairs. I was happy for Michelle and Micah to be able to relax after their ordeals; I was thankful for the luxury myself. During the meal I visited the bathroom a couple times. The air conditioning became increasingly more uncomfortable as I began to get the chills. Always (or at least until that moment) a real trooper, I finished my burger – a good thing as it ended up being my last descent-sized meal for over a day.

My chills grew increasingly strong, extended, and involuntary. Seeing several of the telltale signs, Faye started me on anti-malaria meds and took me back to the hospital to get my very own malaria test. Unfortunately, the hospital had closed at 3 in the p.m.; we arrived just in time to see the lab staff pull away in their Honda Accord. Single tear.

I renegotiated the terms of a previous deal with my stomach as Faye and I chartered a taxi. She offered to take me back to the Zizer's house, where I normally sleep. I am ever so thankful that I chose to spend the night at the Aberdeen house for reasons you will soon learn. We arrived at the Aberdeen house where I promptly fulfilled my part of the aforementioned deal and settled down in Faye's bed, she having graciously prepared it for me for what she thought would be the entire evening. She took my temperature (102 ish), gave me some cool towels for my head, and let me rest. I fell in and out of sleep for the next couple hours.

During periods of unrest, I was struck profoundly with gratitude. Though my skin was burning up and my entire body sore from the sickness with which it was waging war, my mind was captured by my thanks to Faye for her care and to my God for so much more. I was sick, yes, but I knew that I would get better. And I also knew that my God had blessed me with people to care for me, a relationship with a doctor who had been consulted several times over my care, proper medicine to fight the illness, and so much more. My gratitude would only increase throughout the evening. My mind repeated the chorus to Good to Me:

You are so good
You are so good
You are so good to me

Searching for water, I sauntered into the living room after seven o'clock (a time marked by the roar of the generator that would provide power until midnight) and plopped down on the couch. Michelle provided me with a plastic packet of filtered water which I nursed. I was surprised by how long it took me to drink the water, both from general weakness and a weak stomach. Faye had cooked a soup for me, but with great apology I could not bear to eat any solid foods. After a while someone took my temperature – 104.7! Faye suggested I take a shower to cool down.

I entered the bathroom and saw there were some items on the bench in the shower. Planning to sit as I cooled, I returned to the living room to ask Michelle's help with clearing the bench. As she did so, I leaned up against the wall just outside the bathroom door, attempting to cool my head. All would be better soon – and then …

Why is Michelle's hand on my back? Why is her face only inches from mine? Ah, that's strange; the sink plumbing is at eye level. I must be on the floor. That must mean that I'm sitting down. I was standing up.

Michelle was talking, saying what to whom I don't know. As if I was gathering the evidence and pondering over just what could have generated it all, my powers of deduction came back to me: I had fainted.

Faye came in and helped Michelle lay me on the cool floor. The floor was not clean enough for me to choose to lay there, but no thoughts of cleanliness entered my mind nor would have mattered if they did. Faye gathered two fans and a spray bottle of water and began to cool me off. Michelle placed cool towels on me. The scene could have been pulled from a painting of Baccus had I grapes, a crown of olive branches, and, of course, no malaria. They worked for what must have been an hour (my mind really wasn't capturing time very well) at lowering my body temperature. For as close to hell as the situation appeared, the treatment I received felt like heaven.

Cami came in to chat, herself feeling under the weather. She, Michelle, and Faye would keep me company, cool me down, and help me to the bathroom over the next several hours. I can only imagine the sight of Michelle and Faye helping over 200 lbs of dead weight make it back to the ground safely after exiting the restroom. I don't, however, need to imagine what I looked like once I got there for I asked them to take pictures (see gallery for both):

Faye even tried to spoon feed me at one point, but I could not bear the thought of anything entering my system. I was able to nurse one baggie of frozen yogurt that Michelle had procured. Even that six ounces of cool goodness made me doubt the benefit of its nourishment.

They prepared me for the night by giving me a flashlight to use once the power went out at midnight, a sleeve of cookies to eat for energy, a baggie of water to drink, and some fresh cool towels for my head. Michelle set an alarm to wake up at 11:00 p.m. to take my temp (102 ish) and give me fresh meds. At 11:00 she set it again for 3:00 a.m. to do the same. Her sacrifice was and is greatly appreciated.

The night was long, but progressively more comfortable. I was able to eat a cookie around one in the morning. I think the process took about twenty minutes. I've heard that it is good to eat slowly though. Sometime during the night I moved from the floor to the nearby mattress on the floor. That is where I woke up around 8:00 a.m. in a sweat, a sign that my fever was breaking. Again, I was ever so thankful.

Cami and I went returned to the hospital, each to get a malaria test. Seeing that I had taken four doses of anti-malaria medication the previous day, my test returned a negative. Cami tested negative as well. I was slightly disappointed not to get definitive proof of my having malaria (and consequently to miss out on a scrap book must have), but all who heard of my tale were certain enough that malaria was what literally felled me.

I rested the next couple of days away and am still weaker than normal. My appetite has not yet returned completely, but I'm getting enough for energy. Somewhere during this ordeal I learned that my compadre Ben also had contracted malaria. Thankfully, he caught it early and his ordeal was milder than mine, though nowhere near comfortable. All in all six members of our community here contracted malaria over a one week period: Michelle, Ben, Me, Noah (leads Kroo Bay GNC), Marvel (my hostess), and Marvin (the youngest son of my hostess).

If there is a moral to this story, it is to do drugs. Take your malaria prophylaxis. Then even when you've done that, take more anti-malaria drugs when you get malaria. And throw in some anti-diarrhea meds, anti-inflammatory meds, and fever-reducing meds.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. I hope you enjoyed the story.