Tropical Diseases strike once again. Last week, two of the family of three lay out of commission for the majority of the week. Thanks to our nemesis, the mosquito, we made our first Haitian Hospital visit. I had hoped to avoid that trip.
It started with a very, very tired wife. Having a tired pregnant wife is not all that unusual, but when she wakes up, and is exhausted halfway through making breakfast, something is up. Fortunately, tests are cheap, and quick. I insist, so she relents, and I make the call. Thank you Troy Livesay. We caught it pretty early, before any other symptoms arose. 3 days of chloroquin, along with 3 days of sleeping pretty much took care of it.
Abbi on the other hand...
following nasty diapers, contracted a fever that just would not go away. We concluded she had malaria, since her momma did, and treated her. The happy, active girl transformed to a snuggling, sleeping, and sleeping some more, heater. It felt good to have her snuggle so much, content to just lay there on my chest, but the lack of appetite, the fussing several times a night, the crying at having so many medicines forced into the mouth, could have been done without.
(Oreo after medicine)
A quick shower, make sure we have everything, and dread to prepare. We drive through the gate into our crowded intersection. Sure enough, traffic. But we move on. The other lane, coming our way, is packed. Bumper to bumper. I am sure that as soon as we get across the bridge, we will be coming to a sudden and complete halt. The proof is in the opposing lane, and experience. I have spent hours haltingly moving 10 feet at a time on this very road. But we move on. Not fast, but steady. The bridge. We move on. Carrefour (Intersection) Fleurio, my nemesis, since the day we got here, and I sat in the back of the Hendrick's truck, in a monsoon, stuck, IN TRAFFIC, not moving for an hour.
And yet, we move right through the intersection. I am in awe. Now to get past the UN bases bordering the airport. Check. Surely we cannot be making this good of time. We are. 25 Minutes! I have never made it to the Three Hands intersection in 25 minutes, and yet, we are past it and at the hospital gate in 25 minutes. I timed it.
After a quick, Kreyol conversation with the gate guard, he allowed us to enter, and an American pediatrician came out to talk to us and see Abbi, right there on a bench in the driveway of the hospital. Abbi took it all in like a champ. Just lying there in momma's lap, not fussing, somewhat zoned, but just taking it all in, wondering who all these new people were.
She did fuss a little later, and daddy sure wanted to, when blood for testing needed to be withdrawn. Such innocence, as she sleepily and somewhat curiously observes the nice lady holding her hand a little too tightly, with a ????? THAT HURTS! Real tears fall, and daddy has a hard time holding his. It takes two trys, and I am going to refuse a third, when the blood flows. What a relief.
There is no amount of money that would ever convince me to be a nurse. God bless them.
Blood work came back OK, so we are to try and keep her hydrated, and get some antibiotics. We head back home.
We left our house at 6:50 and got back home by 9:30. Crazy. We are blessed. Tremendously blessed. We are surrounded by great people who love and support us and pray for us. And a God, who can move anything, including Port-Au-Prince traffic.
Abbi finally had a fairly normal day Tuesday after sleeping the whole night through, much to her momma's and daddy's relief and rest. To see a smiling, active, talking, baby after a week of sickness and sleep, does much to undo a lot of worry.
Happily back at school, with the Big Kids.