well... that was exciting...

I haven't talked to my parents about this yet. Hopefully they won't be too mad to read it before they hear my voice and know I'm okay. I AM OKAY. I tried to call you guys, but you didn't pick up. Totally not my fault.

I got sick.

I'm not sure how.

I spent most of Saturday afternoon walking around with Teagan and Oli, enjoying the nice weather that had been avoiding us for so long. We ate out lunch, but it was a restaurant I had been to before, and I ate all the same things as before. Saturday night I had planned to meet Teags and Oli, as well as some friends from the language school at the pub.

I noticed that I was a little itchy when I lay down for a nap, but there are a lot of bugs around, so I didn't think about it. After about five minutes, I couldn't sit still anymore. I itched. Everywhere. I had broken out in hives like never ever before. Even my eyelids were swolen and itchy. I figured I got bit by something a little more irritating, ditched my plan to go out, took a benadryl and went to bed. Around 1am, I woke up, itchy again, and unable to use my hands. They were so swolen I couldn't touch any of my fingers to my thumb. I could feel that my eyes were more swolen than before, as well, and my lips felt like they were going to pop right open. Somehow I managed to take another benadryl and went back to sleep.

When I get up in the morning (around 8am), the swelling had spread to my feet as well. I freakout, but luckily Dan, the guy who was living in the room next to mine, comes over to say hey. He gets Doña Rosa for me. She asks me what I ate or did the day before to cause this and I tell her I didn't know. I think she is just going to shrug and walk away, because Sunday is the day they're all supposed to have off, both in the school and in the host families. Dan tries to tell me that everybody gets sick when they travel and this isn't a big deal. He says he'll go get breakfast if I want, or go with to the doctor. After a while, Doña Rosa comes back to my room and says she couldn't get anyone from the school on the phone, but to get ready to go to the doctor. She, Dan, & I pile in a tuk-tuk, the tiny tricycle-style taxis that zip around the city. The doctor at the health department confirms that I am having an alergic reaction, and not, as I feared, a recurrence of rheumatic fever, but since we don't know the cause she would just get me a shot to take care of everything, and hopefully it won't happen again. At least the visit is free.

So, Doña Rosa, Dan, & I pile back into a tuk-tuk and go to the pharmacia, where a guy not wearing gloves tries to give me a shot from across the counter until Doña Rosa insists that I be allowed to sit down. Back in the tuk-tuk again, and I go straight to bed as soon as we get home. After about an hour, Doña Rosa comes to my door with soup (even though she isn't supposed to cook for me on Sunday) saying I need to get better. When I wake up four hours later, I don't itch anymore, but my hands and feet are still swolen. I'm sick of being in bed. I spend less than an hour sitting on my front stoop, in which time pretty much every member of Doña Rosa's family comes by to check on me. They all ask if I went swimming, or drank water from the tap, or bought drugs in the street. I think this illness has solidified my position in the family.

A few more hours pass, and Dan takes me back up to the pharmacia for the second shot, even though he moved out of the house and has no obligation to help me. He translates, haggles a cheaper price for the tuk-tuk we decide to take because of the rain, confirms for the millionth time that the needle, at least, is a new and clean one, gets me a receipt for the sketchiest medical care I've ever received, jokes with the pharmacist, and is just generally the nicest person I think I've ever met. I thank him, but not enough times.

This morning, the visible swelling is gone, but I can still feel the stiffness when I try to make a fist or walk. I thank Doña Rosa again (and again not enough) for going to the doctor with me, and for the soup. She asks (for the fifth time) if I ate all the soup. She says, gesturing between herself and Domingo, that while I am living here, they are my parents, and most important to her is that her children are healthy and happy. She asks if I want more coffee.