When we last left our hero (that’s me), I had spent three days at the Port of Nacala awaiting the release of a container that contained new mattresses for the orphanage. The donated mattresses came on a freighter and we were paying a do-nothing broker that was supposed to do all the work for us. Well, seeing as three days had passed and I wasn’t gonna get any tanner, we packed up and headed for home Thursday night.
To top things off, about little while before the three hour car ride home I started feeling tired and feverish. After a very long three hours with my head basically shoved out the window to try to cool down we arrived in home. I think the fresh air had done me some good, cause my fever had started to go down, but I was still not feeling super well. I went to sleep that night with a fever and the determination to get up and be the first person at the clinic in the morning.
In the meantime, Victor had received a call from the boss of the broker we had been using. The boss, upset not that his reputation was being destroyed but that he was losing money after we made him pay for our food and hotel all three days, gave Victor his word that the mattresses would leave the port Friday and practically begged for us to come back to get them. Victor went back with Charles, Maurio, the boy and the Fatman on Friday (day 4 od the debacle).
The big problem, for those of you as confused as I still am, is the broker was basically not doing his job. We paid him to pay all the port fees and inspection charges and stand in line to wait to yank our container from the ship so we didn’t have to. Furthermore, calling us to come to Nacala on Monday because our cargo is ready to be picked up, and then sitting around in the meantime because our cargo is, guess what, not ready, is really not cool on his part.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch I woke up looking for somebody responsible to accompany me to the clinic. Responsible in this context means that if I faint and start to fall they’ll catch me (or at least redirect my fall so I don’t smash my face on the ground). Well, I found my guy in Jeremias, so we went to the clinic. At this point my fever had passed, thanks to an aggressive (read: ridiculously large) dose of ibuprofen. I went and took a simple blood test to see if I had malaria because of the fever I had, and it came back negative. I figured that I had only picked up a stomach bug or fever from something I ate that disagreed with me. And later in the afternoon I was feeling better, so I thought that whatever I had passed and I would be back to normal once I regained my strength.
That evening we all waited patiently for Victor to return with the promised mattresses. Victor, never one to waste a good photo opportunity, pulled in to the orphanage just as it got dark and made it impossible to get good pictures of the occasion. (as always, click on pictures to make 'em go big).
The kids all waiting at the gate for the truck to come.
Worst supply chain ever, but it got the job done.
Victor (left with backpack) makes sure the mattresses are stacked really high so nobody will climb on them to sit.
We shoved all 60 mattresses into an empty room and called it a night. We’d give out the mattresses another day when Victor wasn’t tired, I wasn’t sick, and the lighting made for better photos.
Saturday might have been that day if it weren’t already so busy. I was feeling much better, but decided to stay in from basketball practice that day (yeah, that’s still happening) as I was still a little tired and still sunburnt. Everyone got started on their Saturday routine, and after doing a little bit of laundry I was feeling tired so I laid down for a nap about 10am.
My first inclination that I might be sick was when I woke up on my bathroom floor several hours later drenched in sweat from a fever and reaching for toilet so I could vomit up breakfast. If that doesn’t sound too pretty, that’s because it wasn’t! In a moment of brilliant logic, I decided this might be a good time to get to the clinic again.
I’m continually surprised by how casual the clinic staff are. When they were checking me in, the nurse asked me what my symptoms were, and I asked her for a list of what dying feels like and we’ll compare notes (little bit of gallows humor there). She just kind of sighed and said, “Ok, lets get your vitals.”
After checking my vitals and finding out that my fever was over 104ºF (that’s 40C for those of you that are un-American) they quickly went to work stabilizing the fever and the shaking and the chills and the desire to vomit. After getting my relatively comfortable they started working on a blood test.
While I was awaiting the results of the blood test, the nurse that checked me in came back to inform me that she tried to find the list of symptoms of death but this clinic doesn’t have one. She was completely serious. That maybe also explains why the clinic has never ever had anyone die there, because they can’t diagnose death.
Well, after the blood test came back the doctor informed me that I had contracted a blood infection. Having no idea what that meant, he explained to me that “We live in a tropical environment, and sometimes people get these things. I don’t know what specific infection you got, but that’s not important because the treatment we’re gonna give you will get whichever one it is.”
And whatever he gave me sure did the trick. He threw me on some antibiotics for a while, and within a day I was feeling worlds better. Within three days I was back working and five days was playing soccer (not a lot, I promise). And what helped my recovery? A nice new mattress to recover on. Once we got them out to all the kids, of course.
nice ending to a grueling task!
ReplyDeleteglad you got better tj!