Writers write. That’s what we do. Whether the result is good or bad depends on a lot of things. One being the physical ability to do so. I probably shouldn’t right now, but I’m nothing if not willing. I just hope that I don’t put anyone to sleep. Two weeks ago, slightly too late by medicating standards, I realised that I had a nasty dose of malaria. Eventually, I got the required drugs and popped them, expecting to be perfectly fine in the next couple of days. I’ve had malaria lots of times before, and that’s normally how things go. Not this time though. I kept on feeling quite bad. Then I was told that I should have been taking antibiotics at the same time. I’ve never done that before, but who am I to argue. Apparently these parasites have developed resistances to all the drugs we’re used to taking. So I took the antibiotics, and felt not too terrible for a few days. Then I woke up on Sunday morning, thinking that I hadn’t actually woken up at all. I had such a fever, that I literally couldn’t get to my feet, and conked hotly out again. Been doing a lot of that lately. Conking. Angus toddled in with Quinine, and more antibiotics. I’ve never taken Quinine before. I thought it was something in the tonics for my gin. I took them anyway, and eventually the fever subsided, and I was able to see to my most concerned feathered flock, wobbly being better than prostrate.
I’m guessing Quinine is the right way to go, although I’m feeling rather rough. Who am I to argue? Anyway. I don’t see the difference in feeling rough horizontal in bed, or a little more precariously on a chair. So here I am. What a rotten ailment. The guy at the local bush clinic said that if you leave these things too long, not only is it harder to treat, but ten percent of people who get “severe” malaria die! I checked on line and Google agrees with him completely. Really charming. Gorgeous as this place is to live in, I sometimes wonder if it’s worth the hazards. Plagues of everything, including bush rats, and deadly diseases with no doctors in sight. Roughing it is one thing, but dying because it’s a lot nicer in the countryside is another thing entirely.
I do feel a bit better than yesterday in the fever department. It seems to come in waves, although there’s a new form of fuzzy dizziness that I don’t understand. After all, now I have this new/old wonder drug, Quinine, I should surely be feeling better than this. It was probably not a good idea, but, yes, I googled it. It would appear that it’s just as nasty as the diseases it treats, and takes people out just as readily. Charming! Anyway. I couldn’t find any alternative on line, so life being what it is, I’ll take the remaining ten doses, and see what happens next. I’m not going to curl up somewhere and analyse all the things going on in my poor besieged bod, so I’ll hang around here as much as I can, and try not to whine too much.
I wonder why humans are prone to so many diseases. I know animals get sick, but they don’t have nearly the selection of ailments to choose from. Maybe that guy from Ancient Aliens – the one with the hair – is right, and we are not indigenous to this planet. Crosses between chimps and aliens. The alien bits being got at by the foreign germs here. I certainly feel rather alien today.
Till next time friends. xxx