28th birthday

april 16, 2012

(my 28th birthday)

i woke up and still had malaria.

it wasn't a series of bad dreams. i really was this sick. but i had survived a third night.

today was my birthday but it didn't even really register.  all i could think about was the pain.

Malaria feels like every muscle, ligament and tendon in your body is ripped and searing - being stretched and torn at every moment - and every joint feels like arthritis and tiger mortis - complete freezing up and agony… but there is no relief. moving doesn't help and staying still only makes it worse.

time goes SO slowly - ten minutes seems like hours and hours.

the pain in my head was the only thing worse then my back. my head felt like the spinal chord was being chewed on by diseased rats and my brain was completely swollen inside my skull pressing out.

the fever/chill routine was BOILING HOT which caused me to projectile vomit everything  - every last drip of water from my stomach… and then FREEZING teeth chattering - whole body seizing up. (i can barely walk because my calf muscles are so sore from clenching them i guess) - and the arthritic pain is unbearable.

by day 4 (my birthday) all i could do was cry.

i was crying out of pain and i was crying out of fear.

i had woken up with excruciating pain in my lower right abdomen… like all the organs in my pelvis had gotten infected with the disease and i was surely gonna die.

plus i live with the most hardcore, rugged, dreadlocked, indestructible Brazilian men who are like ya - you'll be fine… i love the nonchalant atmosphere here - but it terrifies me sometimes.

it took me a solid 30 minutes to shuffle my way out of the mosquito net and to the kitchen where i collapsed on the stairs in tears.

One of the local girls who was working in the kitchen and looking at me suggested i go see the medicine woman. Carel, one of the workers who took my to the doctor on the speedboat when i first got sick a few days ago, suggested that he could take me on his motorbike, since i couldn't really walk.

"How much does she cost?" Michelle asked

"Well - if  you like what she says then you can buy her a pack of cigarettes." Rosemeada replied from behind the bucket full of dishes she was washing.

Off we went.

I had to walk for part of it - which was really hard but had to be done… you can't drive a motorbike on coral and sand beaches… it just doesn't work.

Carel expertly maneuvered us through a village - little pieces of wood had been strategically placed across little rivers and bumps so that a motorbike could drive. There must be 10 total on this whole island.

Just like usual, the little children come flying out of houses and churches and schools to wave at me or run up to the bike or else just stand and stare wide eyed. We wove between huts, pigs, chickens, monkeys, stray skinny dogs with ribs showing, piles of garbage and mounds of coconuts ready to be burned to keep away the mosquitos.

Once we got through that village we went up an insanely steep mountain and then had to go down - on this defunct motorbike that who KNOWS if the brakes could take it … i started bawling crying and screaming that i was scared. Carel told me it would be okay and we went super super slowly… coming down to see the most beautiful bay i have ever seen. Perfect glassy, still aquamarine blue water with a perfect semi-circle of white sand and endless palm trees.

It was stunning even through my yellow, half opened eyes.

Up and over we entered the jungle. Some cement had been poured, but that is just about the only reason you could have for saying that another human had been here before. the vines and grass and jungles plants whipped our feet as we drove through the middle of this jurassic park-like vibe.

It seemed to last forever… but then again - i have malaria… so everything is lasting longer then it is.

We finally arrived at the Ibu's house.

It was all pink… hot pink walls with turquoise trim…. pink curtains, pink flowers… she sat me in a pink chair and asked my name.

then held a root vegetable between her palms… something that looked like a turmeric - and prayed for a very long time… reciting my name over and over again…

Then she took out a switchblade from a leather purse that was hanging on her window and cut the thing in half and put the two cut halves on the back of her hand.

She smacked her hand until one fell off… and did it several times until she decided which one she needed to use and threw the other one out the slots in the window.

Once again, chanting and praying and mumbling in Bahasa Nias she pulled out some lotion or potion or who knows what and mixed it up with the cut piece of orange vegetable and then smeared it on my forehead, neck, stomach, back and chest.

Then she lead me into the next room which was also pink and turquoise. She threw a cardboard thin mat that had cartoon pictures of fish on it down on her cement floor and instructed me to lie down.

She took a bowl of motor oil and cut up little red onions and salt and mixed it together chanting and praying my name again… and then massaged the motor oil into my muscles.

When she was done she asked if i was better and i didn't know whether to be honest or not because no, i definitely wasn't better. it still ached everywhere and my abdomen was still bad.

As though she read my mind, she came and sat behind me and rubbed my abdomen some more for about a half hour and then just hugged me.

She felt like my mom in that moment and i couldn't help but start crying… I felt so weak and just needed a hug,

She lay me down and told me to sleep.

(Actually sleeping has been damn near impossible… though i can rest - to actually be asleep in one position for an extended amount of time is really challenging)

It was even harder that there was like 5 kids and her whole family just standing there starting at me watching me… plus there was a bowl of motor oil next to me which smelled like hell but she said i had to keep it there.

i looked up at the ceiling which was the corrugated tin roof. A light was tied on to a beam with red packing string. I wondered if and how it worked… and then i was being woken up.

I don't know how long i slept - but i think it was about an hour… and my abdomen pains were completely gone.

She said that i had some black magic in my stomach but she got it out.

Suddenly paranoia took over me.  Apparently this is a symptom of Malaria… but I didn't realize at the time… I didn't realize anything rationally.

I was gripped by terror and fear and curled in a ball against the wall.

I noticed the scuffs and marks on the pink walls… The pencil marks made by a child. I imagined my mother yelling at me when i was 3 for drawing with pencil on the wall.

I felt ashamed and horrified, as though it was me who had drawn on these pink walls.

The cement floor had a sort of plastic cover glued on it reminiscent of linoleum, only it had been cut too big and curled up at the ends, crawling a few inches up the pink walls.

I grabbed my knees and sobbed through clenched teeth and sweat dripping into my eyes.

Carel came and told me it was okay. He tried to call Michelle and put her on the phone for me but i was totally spun out. I asked him if we could leave and as soon as he said yes the skies opened up and rain poured down.

"Hujan dulu. Setelah badai, pita berengkat." Rain First.  After the storm, we'll go.

I sat in the room and cried more… wide eyed and scared… until my wide eyes got heavy and i fell asleep again.

The medicine woman chopped up more onions and herbs and put them in a glass with hot water and then dipped her spoon in the motor oil, stirred it into the glass and made me drink it.

The rain stopped and we left… making a million stops at a million different places for reasons i couldn't quite figure out in my haze.

Finally we made it to the Doctor who was concerned that i was still sick and lay me down on the cot next to the bars in the front room of his house.

(this is the hospital here)

He injected filed of red medicine (apparently mostly just vitamins) into my hips and gave me a slew of new medicines to take with food… and then we came back to Surfing Village.

I guess we were gone for about 5 hours total.

The hours and days of this sickness have completely meshed into one long whimper for me.

Time has gone so slowly though i feel like i have become 95 years old and i'm now an arthritic old lady knocking at death's door.

Shayne texted me and told me he was going to drive up his boat from the Mentawais to come check on me, which is a ridiculous 20 hour mission that i told him he definitely didn't need to do.

I slept and slept and slept.

Today is day 6. I think I started this piece yesterday but I'm not totally sure about anything at this point.

I dreamed in a foggy hazy dream that felt more like the space between when you are just about to fall asleep…. i was in that hazy waiting room for sleep when i saw my aunt Devon so vividly and clearly. I didn't know if i was supposed to ask her something or take a message… She was so clear. So patient and just sitting there ready to be asked whatever i wanted.

But instead i just looked at her and was in her presence.

My brain was too foggy to think of anything.

I just wanted to be near her.

And then i got the message through that i was only able to spend time with her like this because i was so much closer to death then i'd ever been before.

And i think it was just a reminder that no matter how far i go i have guardian angels… in the flesh and in the ether.

My dad always says multiples of 7 are big years.

When i was 7 years old i became a vegetarian and changed my name from Xani to Zan.

When i was 14 i took a turn for the worst and became a trouble maker in every way.

When i was 21 i had my wedding and moved to london

What is 28 gonna be all about?

I feel drawn again to being a nurse.

Always, when i am sick i think about how much i want to be a nurse and help people who are suffering and in pain.

Maybe year 28 is the year i conquer malaria and start school to become a nurse.

i'll just work on the first bit first…