So, you ask, what happens when you are sick in Colombia?

So, the past two days have certainly been interesting. Let's just say... the phone here is ringing every two minutes, and Stella's cell phone rings almost as often. We've created quite a stir in this little city.

On Monday, I went to the doctor. I had some stomach issues, but since they weren't going away everyone insisted I stay home from school and see a doctor. Originally, I was trying to find one through my insurance, but then Stella wanted me to go to her gastrointestinal specialist. Unfortunately, he was at a conference in the United States. Eventually, everyone decided I would see a doctor who had children attending Liceo Pino Verde. It sounded fine with me, but since he didn't speak English, I had to have an interpreter. And since they don't trust sick Melody who doesn't speak Spanish to do things by herself, I also had to have someone ride with me in the taxi to the doctor.

The clinic I went to on Monday was downtown. As usual, there was an armed guard keeping people out of the gates. I realized once we talked our way through the door that we were at a cancer clinic. Andrea greeted me and took me upstairs, and I felt rather odd sitting there with my tummy ache while other people were having consultations about their much more serious problems. Also, since buildings aren't air conditioned in Pereira and it hadn't rained in two days, the building was stifling. It didn't matter--the doctor was very nice. Using Andrea as my interpreter, I explained all my symptoms. He didn't take my temperature or weigh me, but he did take my blood pressure and feel my stomach. After announcing that one side of my colon was swollen, he diagnosed me with a simple case of a traveler's illness. (Okay, fine, it was traveler's diarrhea. Normally, I wouldn't tell the entire world, but since most of Colombia knows, I guess it doesn't matter.) Then, for this very normal and simple illness, he prescribed me five medications. That's right: Five. I've had surgery and been much sicker than I was Monday and only had 1 or two medications each time. I was amazed that I could need that much medicine. How much did all this cost? $8 to see the doctor, and $14.50 for my medicine.

Anyway, I went home that afternoon feeling much better. I ate a bowl of cereal with soy milk. I took my medicine, took a nap, and eventually went grocery shopping with Warren, Stella, and Dora. I had a simple dinner of soup and toast, and I felt much better.

On Tuesday morning Warren and I both got up early and took the bus to school. We were feeling fine, and we were both ready for the day. I ate my two pieces of toast for breakfast, and felt fine. When we were on the bus, one of the parents saw me and looked straight at me and tried to ask me questions in Spanish. When that didn't work, he grabbed his stomach and asked if I was better. I smiled and said yes, and realized that every parent at LPV probably knew I had been sick, along with the kids. Anyway, we got to school and had a very pleasant morning. We worked on testing, and I planned out the day's afternoon class. Unfortunately, around lunch time I began feeling sick again, except this time, I was nauseous. I made it through Warren eating fried chicken and having a long conversation with Agustine before I started to feel really sick... but by 1:30, I was throwing up, and Warren was having diarrhea. Stella and Diana insisted that we see a doctor, and they also insisted that we go home. I wasn't going to fight them since I had to dash to the bathroom every few minutes!

This was also the time that Diana realized something that would have been useful to know two weeks ago: I had been consuming chicken broth on an almost daily basis. You see, in Colombia, vegetarians are basically non-existent. And while I've been careful about what I eat here, I haven't always been able to eat vegan, or haven't always known if I was eating vegan. That's not such a big deal, as long as I don't get sick. But I've been eating vegetable soup at school and at home constantly, because that's what they make for vegetarians here. Unfortunately, despite the fact that they say it is "sin carne," in Colombia, that doesn't mean it is vegetarian. All the soups are made with chicken broth. And even though I asked if they were made with meat, no one considers broth meat. So, Diana realized that they've been feeding me something that I haven't had in two years. (To be honest, I had sort of assumed it was made with chicken broth, but it was eat that or eat nothing.) Anyway, everyone decided that I was getting so sick because I was eating food that my body hadn't needed to digest in a very long time.

Anyway, that's not really the point. Stella drove Warren, me, and Adriana, our new interpreter, to the clinic where my doctor was working. This time, he was working in the pediatric ward at an urgent care. I managed to keep my insides inside while we were in the car, but as soon as I started walking I got sick again. There's nothing quite as classy as vomiting on the sidewalk in front of a hospital while 30 Colombians stare at you. We got inside (of course, after we passed the armed guard and the gate), and Adriana registered us. Warren and I both had to go to the pediatric ward because that's where our doctor was. The hallways were filled with crying babies, and I felt terrible because I knew their parents didn't understand why two grown adults were taking up space. When we finally got into an examination room, I had to vomit again. It took the nurse a long time to do the examination because I had to keep running to the bathroom.

After it was over, they took me to get an IV. The hospital was packed with people. For every nurse, there must have been at least 10 patients. The room where they gave IVs was insane by American standards. There were three curtained off sections with two beds in each part, and a large lounge where about 8 people sat hooked up to their IVs. Everyone else was standing. While we waited, I began to fall, so someone sat me in a wheelchair. Everything at this point is a bit fuzzy, but I know I was finally put on one of the beds, and then I had to go to the bathroom again, and when I got back, the bed was taken. They put me back in the wheelchair and drew my blood. I vomited all over the floor. By now, at least 45 people had seen me throw up in the course of an hour. Once I was hooked up to the IV, I was pushed over into the lounge area and hung out with the other people getting an IV. They smiled and nodded and looked at the vomit on my shoe. It was actually one of the highlights of my day.

Eventually, my doctor came and got me. He put both Warren and I in the pediatric ward. I was given my own little glass room, but since it was see through, I could see all the babies and their parents could all see me. For the next 6 hours, Warren and I hung out with them. I threw up or went to the bathroom every 20 minutes for the first few hours (Warren says it was every 3 minutes, but I don't believe him). The nurse tried to give me Mylanta, but it didn't last long in my stomach. Stella and Adriana would drop by to check on us frequently. They also bought us Pedialyte, toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and tissues. Plus, they gave Warren potato chips. I was hooked up to an IV the entire time. Warren refused it because he's scared of needles. I went through something like 7 liters of saline solution. Along with the screaming babies and my uncontrollable vomiting, we had a very nice evening.

At 9:00 p.m. they let us go home. I fell asleep around 7 and slept until 8:15, when Stella and Adriana came. The doctor let me go home on the premise that I hadn't had diarrhea or vomited in about two hours. Of course, five minutes after we were in the car I vomited again, but I actually didn't vomit again the entire night.

Warren is feeling better today, and so am I. We both slept well, and I've been able to keep down my medicine and some water this morning. We are being kept home from school today, and our afternoon classes were cancelled for the rest of the week. It's sad, because we both enjoy teaching and we feel like we are a burden on the school. (Especially since we are here to help!) We came here to test and teach, but today it looks like we'll spend the day sleeping and watching Stella's movies. I feel guilty, and I think we're going to try to make up all our classes somehow.

Anyway, I hope to have a more interesting post next time. We have a lot of plans for this weekend, so hopefully we'll both be well by then. I hope you weren't too grossed out by this post--it's funny, I'd normally never write about something like this, but since most of Pereira knows I'm sick, I've decided I don't care anymore!