My Malaria Experience
I have malaria. Malaria. And guess what? It's not the first time. Or the second time, either. The big number three.
"Aye!" The doctor exclaims while reading my lab results, "It's much worse this time."
"It's worse!?" I repeat.
"Mmm." He nods. There are two plus's next to the word "malaria" scribbled on the page. As I'm walking out of the clinic, bags of pills and tonics clutched in my hand, bum sore from injections, Mr. Doctor says, "Come back Wednesday! And rest until then."
Wednesday will mark trip number five to the trusty little Ghanaian health clinic, of which I am an honorary member. Its waiting room with the lazy atmosphere is not a stranger to me, and I know the routine so well that I don't even have to think before I make my way around.
I guess I've found a bit of comfort.
Ghana has been my home for two months, and will be for another three weeks. Having only turned eighteen on my exact day of arrival in the country, and being someone who can be described simply as a "homebody", the experience has been overwhelming. Walking across the airport tarmac, the sun blared down so harshly that we had to squint after being confined to planes and airports for 24 hours.
"It's hot," kind of summed up the feeling, "Ghana is hot." I was with three girls my age, all of us Aussies who graduated high school last year. We'd only met once before (along with the fifth member, who was meeting us at the hostel later that night) and we were all giddy, excited and incredibly nervous. Although, maybe that last part was just me. We made our way through the airport and found the lady who would take us to the hostel in Accra, Ghana's capital city. Our first drive in Ghana began, and we learnt very quickly that the use of horns is far greater than the appearance of speed limit signs. We zoomed down the highway. The world around me was surreal- people carrying things on their heads to sell to drivers and passengers stopped at traffic lights, beautiful Sunday dresses, buildings that could only be described as rubble sitting next to billboards advertising smartphones. A mix of old and new. Traditional and Western.
Since our first few days in Accra, we've only been back a handful of times. Our real home has become Swedru; a smaller city located about one and a half or two hours out of Accra. The main streets of Swedru are where we do our shopping and go to the Internet cafe. It's where we end up after every weekend away and feel like we've just arrived home. It was day four in Ghana when we finally got to pack our bags back into the van and head off to our first placement- our home for six weeks.
Sitting about fifteen minutes out of the main part of Swedru, you will find two orphanages. There's a walk of only about twenty minutes between the two, so their association is regular. "We'll go to Tina's Care first," Tina said, "Robyn and Maddie- that's you." Tina is one of those people who can't be ignored when they enter a room. Her great big smile and outstretched hands could nearly knock you off your feet. She's one of our in-country partners, and she manages the orphanage called Tina's Care. It's a new orphanage, and smaller than the other, and it's where Maddie and I had been assigned to live together. The excitement in me began to rise as we felt we must be getting closer and closer. Eventually, the driver turned the van off the main street and into a little dirt roadway. Straight away we saw them. Twenty-seven Ghanaian children jumping, clapping and cheering as they spotted our van. Fighting back tears, we exited the van as the kids sang us a welcome song. At the time, the song was unknown to me, but now I've heard it so many times that I could hum it as I get on with daily business. Holding kids and trying to learn names already, we had a look at the orphanage. It's a little blue building with some play equipment outside and about seven rooms in total inside, including one main room where all the kids sleep on mattresses that are piled in one corner during the day and laid out at night. Maddie and I's room was also painted a lovely blue, and simply two single beds. I loved it. Looking back on that day now is pretty strange. The faces of the kids were foreign at the time. It took me about three weeks to be able to confidently name each kid. By the end of the six weeks they were all so familiar that each of their names could easily flow out of my mouth upon seeing their faces, that I knew all of their individual traits and personalities, and that I knew I would miss them too much when the time was to come. I was right about that, for sure.
The first time I got malaria was about three weeks into my experience of Ghana. I remember just feeling pretty... blah. A severe headache, aches, pains and nausea restricted me to my bed that morning, but I didn't assume that it was anything serious. I probably said something like, "I'll be fine." Later that day, around midday, is when it got weird. Remember how I mentioned earlier about how hot Ghana is? Well, it was a usual day- hot. I'd been lying in bed all morning with the fan pointed right at me but slowly it began to feel too cold. I got up and switched the fan off and lay back down. Time ticked, and during that time I had found myself putting on long pants, putting on my flannie, and bundling up in my sleeping bag. Still cold, I shivered silently while trying to sleep. Maddie came in and saw me half asleep, cocooned in warmth and with no use of the beloved fan. Assuming I would be overheating, she flicked the switch. My head snapped up.
"Too cold," I mumbled.
"Really?"
"Yeah, freezing." She dug though her medical kit and pulled out some pills.
"These should help," she said, and I remember her taking my temperature. I was bordering on thirty-nine degrees. The chills subsided after about twenty minutes, and I slowly peeled off each layer that I had accumulated. We knew that medical attention was needed. A past volunteer who had had her last two days at the orphanage on our first two days there had given us her patient card for a clinic that she recommended. It had the address; "Pipe Tank".
Maddie and a new volunteer fresh to the country accompanied me on the journey to the clinic. By the time we got there it was probably around four o'clock, and you could tell that the staff were pretty much either already home or packing up to go. The woman who greeted us at the receptionist desk later went into a back room, put on a white coat, and then came out to assess me. I received a far-too-painful blood test, and then we were left to sit for far-too-long. Finally, my results had arrived.
"Yes, yes. Malaria. And a trace of typhoid," the doctor said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. I couldn't help the tears that sprung in my eyes. There I was, sitting weakly in a little Ghanaian chair in a little Ghanaian health clinic, being told by the not-so-little Ghanaian man that I had two diseases that I never dreamed of getting. And something else. The chills were back. I trembled and sobbed in the stiff chair.
"Would you like to lie down in here?" I was directed to a room to the right of where we were sitting. It had a curtain for a door and a printed out label taped over the doorframe that read "DETAINED MALE". No matter. Bed, was all I could think about. But then, warmth? Someone eventually brought me a thin white blanket that reduced the shivers, but only a little. I lay there for a while with Maddie sitting in a chair next to me, before the nurse came in. They had told me that I needed to get an injection. The nurse readied the needle then looked at me expectantly, but I didn't understand.
"It'll be in your buttocks," she said. I shot an alarmed look at her and then at Maddie. We both kind of half-laughed.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked with a semi-giggle.
"Yeah," I replied in the same tone. I awkwardly flipped onto my stomach and lay there for a couple seconds while the nurse just looked at me, unmoving. I realized that she was waiting for me to pull the top of my pants down.
"Do I just... Should I...?" I really was new to the situation. The nurse smiled and told me what to do, and then she stuck the needle right into my upper cheek. It was, again, far-too-painful. Like. Painful. I exclaimed, possibly a yelp, or possibly an argh, or possibly a mix of the two. I thought about the thin curtain door separating me from Maddie and the other volunteer, Denise. They'd heard for sure. This was confirmed when the nurse left and in came Maddie, laughing her head off through a hint of concern and sympathy. I laughed too, through tears and shivers. Denise joined us a few minutes later and we all just chatted, the chills I'd been having significantly reducing. We were waiting for Seth (our other in-country partner) to come pick us up, and by the time he came it was around eight. We arrived back to the orphanage to find plates of fried circles of plantain waiting for us. We devoured each bit in seconds, drenched in tomato sauce.
While the experience was dramatic for that one day, that's all it was, really. For the next few days I had to swallow countless pills, but I just stayed in bed and didn't feel nearly as bad as that first day. By three days later I was feeling fit and fine.
"Madam, you are sick," one of the oldest girls, Christiana, had said to me, "Sorry." That's something interesting about Ghanaians- they always say sorry about things that are affecting you but not because of them. Like if I tripped while walking, one of the kids would pipe up, "Oh, sorry!" It's pretty nice, actually.
"I'm feeling better now though!" I replied, and she smiled her shy smile.
I remember discussing with Maddie, probably about a week in, about how crazy it would be if one of us got malaria. It seemed like such an unlikely, unreal thing that only happens to people you don't know. Then, weeks later, we sat at the same dinner table laughing about how I'd gotten malaria. Little did I know that there would be another two occurrences for me to look back on.
However, the second time I was told I had malaria was a bit of a non-event. Actually, it was a bit of a relief. About a week or so earlier our group had made a trip to the Volta Region, and one of our stops was at a monkey sanctuary. It was a really cool experience- we got to hold out bananas and have the cute little monkeys jump up onto our arms and feed away. However, a few days later we received an email from our supervisor back in Australia, warning us of the dangers of monkeys and rabies. So, as you can imagine, a little while later when I started to feel sick... I freaked out. Paranoia spread through me. Rabies. I had rabies. To tell the truth, I don't think I even felt that sick, I was just being a worrywart. Nevertheless, we headed back to the clinic. A blood test confirmed that it was malaria. I was relieved, remembering how I had recovered from it in a couple days. To me, malaria didn't seem all that bad anymore.
That was now about four weeks ago. Since then we have moved from our lovely little orphanage setting to a homestay doing volunteer teaching at a local school. In a couple days we will say farewell to permanent dwellings, and embark on two weeks of backpacking-style travel. Something that might require healthiness, perhaps? So when I started to feel that ache in my bones and the never-ending throb of a headache, I was annoyed. I was so ready, so keen, so excited. I guess that brings us back to the start of my story- my malaria is now even worse. And it isn't just the figures that tell me that; I can feel it. The drowsy lull of my movements, having to pick my heavy head off the pillow each morning, then falling back down in exhaustion. I may be a drama queen, yes, but this isn't ideal, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bummed out about it.
But you know... three times is supposed to be lucky, right?
Post Note: The sad truth is that malaria is a severe illness that causes thousands of fatalities, simply due to the fact that the medical resources that I was lucky enough to have access to and afford, are not readily available in rural parts of Africa. I cannot be more thankful for the fact that I was able to have the experience that I had. I'll be visiting Africa again, and I encourage other to as well.
You can donate to the 'Against Malaria Foundation' simply by visiting their website. They fund anti-malaria nets to those in need, and you can even receive emails that let you know where the nets you funded end up. Every little bit helps!
Share This Article
