Salmonella 1 - Heathers 0

---

Well I guess it was inevitable that one of us would get sick! Jamie and I have been having a great time in Cusco, and I made the mistake of wishing we could stay here longer...careful what you wish for! On Tuesday we had a great day - spanish classes from 9 until 1, a bit of a siesta, then more classes from 5-7 and then salsa lessons! After that we went for dinner with some friends and we were walking home saying what a fantastic day it had been when I started to feel a little bit dodgy. We went to bed, and I was CONVINCED it was freezing and I spent all night alternating between icy cold and impossibly hot temperatures. We woke up in the morning and I felt like I´d been hit by a truck.

There was no way I could go to classes on Wednesday, so the plan was that I would rest, and Jamie would go to the school and let them know that we wouldn´t be able to attend that day. I took some panadol and fell into a feverish sleep. Some time later, I woke to Jamie coming through the door to our hostel WITH OUR SPANISH TEACHER. As you can imagine, I didn´t really feel at my best for receiving visitors, but there was nothing I could do! There I was in my sweaty pyjamas, my hair looking like a bird´s nest and Magda our spanish teacher sitting on the edge of my bed. She and Jamie had discussed it and they felt it was a good idea to take me to the dr. There was an English doctor not far from the school who only cost 50 nuevos soles (less than US$20). So I got dressed, and Magda hailed down a cab and took me to the clinic.

It was so surreal. I´m sitting in the back of the taxi, trying not to be sick and Magda was still giving me Spanish lessons! She was asking if I´d eaten breakfast (in spanish) and I was saying ¨no tengo hombre" and she would be like "No, no Donna....´no tengo HAMBRE". I understand there´s an important distinction (hombre meaning man, hambre meaning hunger) but I was not in the right place to fully appreciate it!

When we got to the clinic, it turned out it was 100 soles, and the doctor spoke limited English. We went into his room (me, Jamie and our Spanish teacher) while the doctor checked me over and asked me questions in English/Spanish. Every now and then he would talk to my teacher (assuming maybe that she would translate??). He decided that I probably had some sort of food-related illness but he wanted me to have tests in the lab downstairs. So we go downstairs into my biggest nightmare. I wanted to run away! The lab technician spoke no English, didn´t wear gloves or wash his hands and the room was so dirty! There was this awful brown muck all over the table legs and the rubbish bin (I can only HOPE it was mud!). He tied a piece of rubber tubing on my arm but couldn´t find a vein. My arm was going purple, but no sign of a vein! So he put a needle in my hand and poked around a bit, but STILL couldn´t draw blood. In the end he gave up (probably when I started to cry) and ignored me for the rest of the time we were in the clinic. I think he felt I was doing it on purpose.

So Jamie and Magda took me home. The dr thought it was best to prescribe antibiotics anyway, and 2 days later I feel MUCH better! The best part of this whole story was that Jamie (being the wonderful husband that he is) booked us into a nice hotel so that I could have hot water and a clean bed while I recuperated. Oh, and he didn´t go along with my plan to euthanase me...he´s a good man.

---