Now, there is something that I haven’t gone into in any detail earlier. On the ‘Tap-Tap’ yesterday I was bitten by something which resulted in painful sensations. The best way to describe it is to say it is like burning pins and needles. Like there is boiling water running inside your skin but with the most intense pins and needles you have ever experienced; then it changes to freezing pain. I think I mentioned that this morning it had spread to my right arm and what started as annoying tingling has definitely been replaced by uncomfortable pain and now I have to constantly shake my arm to stop it from going numb / falling asleep. It seems to have lost all power and control. The thing that is starting to worry me is that the sensation I had this morning in my right arm is now present in my left. I am now continuously shaking my leg and arm to try and stop them from falling asleep. I still don’t say anything to anybody else.
Back at camp, I pull Molly to one side. Once I give her a quick explanation she can’t believe the severity of the situation, mummifies me with bandages and forbids me from moving. She is rather concerned and starts to panic and, for the first time, I do too. Molly is a paramedic which is why I sought out her opinion. Her boyfriend Chris is one too and the two of them snap into professional mode; I am so lucky that they were there. They immediately start raiding the mobile clinic and their own supplies for appropriate medication and Molly urgently contacts a Haitian doctor who they had been working with that day. Together, they prescribed the strongest antibiotics that Molly has and constantly monitor my temp.
They are updating Dr Bob (the Haitian doctor) every 30 mins by text (via the GVN phone) and he relays instructions. Everyone is really worried and they fuss around me and, by now, I am really not feeling well at all – sick and very high temp. I get helped to bed and given ice packs.
I don’t sleep well at all and, as I stare at the shadows thrown by the moon and nearby trees in the middle of a sleepless night, alligators begin to appear on the Tarpaulin roof. I screw up my eyes to adjust to the darkness and the images become clearer. The 5 foot long bodies, with tails swishing behind them, are quite clearly silhouettes of alligators! This can’t be right. I am either dreaming or the bundles of pills I have been given this evening have affected me in a most bizarre way. I rub my eyes again and feel round for my torch. At that moment, I notice about 4 other torch beams pointed up to the roof and I am relieved that I am not alone in this discovery, and, as I point my torch in the direction of the alligators, it all makes sense. The alligators are nothing more than lizards on the tent roof which have been making such a noise running about the plastic cover that a number of people have woken up as a result of the beams of light shining up through the sheeting, the reptile figures have been magnified. Taking comfort that I am not alone or about to be gobbled by killer alligators, I turn off my light and attempt to go back to my hazy sleep.
I take myself to hospital along with Michelle and Babby. Nobody else knows where the Miami Hospital sponsored tent is, which baffles me somewhat as I would have thought that there should be some kind of system set up in case of medical assistance. The fact that there is not always a medically trained person within each group also concerns me.
The group drops me off and I am relieved that I am ‘with it’ enough to direct my companions to the medical tent – otherwise how would I have got there? I don’t want to drag this situation out as there are hundreds of people far worse off than me that go through serious illness or prolonged injury on a daily basis here. Let’s just say I was blown-away by how unhelpful the medical volunteers were. I was told it’s breakfast time so nobody will want to see me. Apparently the staff are volunteers on a weekly rotation and, as people are leaving today, they will be unable to help as they are packing. In my short time there the tented clinic housed many seriously ill patients so I hope that this was not the medics usual attitude and that breakfast wasn’t more important.I feel oddly ashamed of some people’s attitudes. We are here to help, not to enjoy ourselves. I had high expectations that crashed; others were low and surpassed. They don’t really know what to do and pass me along for a few opinions. When I tell them I am annoyed that my ‘spidey powers’ haven’t taken effect yet, they don’t even crack a smile. They give me three bags of pills to cover all possibilities and tell me that the steroids are pretty strong.
We set off to catch up with the others.It seemed like hundreds of people were walking or riding the Tap-Taps, the ubiquitous mass transit vehicles that double as moving folk art and billboards of religious proclamations and in my Bambi-like-state, it could be a bit tricky for me to negotiate. Babby flags down a car and says something to the driver - I’ve done it all now, hitchhiking in Haiti!
We bargain a price and jump in. We head into PAP and once again I am saddened by the destruction all around us.
We are informed that the Haitian doctor told / texted Michelle & Eliza for me to see him at 8am - nobody passed on this info. I am so impressed with Molly. For someone relatively young she is so on the ball and I can imagine her being fantastic at her job back home. She has such an old, wise and sensible head when required (although she can also be crazy and lots of fun to be around in different circumstances). She immediately took charge again and insisted we stop off at Doctor Bob on the way back to the camp. Long story short, I was told not to move my leg as doing so would pump the bite poison round my system and to keep the bite bandaged to prevent infection. Also as I keep losing the feeling in my limbs, if I was to put any weight on my leg, I could snap as I wouldn’t feel it. Back at camp, I take a bad turn, high temperature then freezing cold along with dizziness and nausea – people start to panic. Lots of conversations are going on away from me as they don’t want to alarm me. It’s decided by Molly and Chris that the next 24 hours are crucial and could go either way. I could dramatically improve or I would need to be airlifted out. My insurance documents are finally found (after being told that I had not given them; I told them twice to look again and miraculously they materialised). I have a fight about not contacting Iain or my parents as there is absolutely no need to worry them at this stage. This proves to be another battle and I (in my increasingly drugged state) declare that I have not given permission for my family to be contacted and that if anyone sees Michelle with the phone, then they have orders that she is to be wrestled to the ground and the phone removed. I then decide it’s better if I just keep hold of my documents and I can give them to either Molly or Julie if necessary. Oh I forgot to mention, I am being taken to a hotel for the night to give me the best possible chance of a quick recovery. Chelsey and Katie pack a bag for me and, at this stage, the general consensus in the camp is that I will not be seen again.
I, however, insist I will be back tomorrow. As I am bundled into a car, people take it in turns to hug me goodbye and each has a melancholy expression on their face – perhaps this is more serious than I am willing to admit. I don’t enjoy the journey and am feeling pretty horrid by the time we get to our room. Julie takes one bed and Molly shares with me as she has to keep a constant check on me over the next few hours. She is such a superstar and documents my symptoms, what medication I am on, when I need to take each pill, my temperature, the severity of the parestesia and if the sick feeling is reducing. The clever little monkey even marks the bite holes on my leg and the swollen area surrounding it to see if there is any change in it's size or appearance. She even threatens to draw a moustache and beard on me with the permanent marker whilst I am asleep. She feeds me cheesy puffs (the first thing I have eaten for a while) takes my temp, gives me my first lot of pills.
She then sets her digital watch and performs such duties throughout the night. She doesn’t sleep a wink herself and monitors every breath I take, in between waking me up for the next intake of medication.
We had a similar experience with Ann in Jacmel, she got typhoid, food poisoning and a urinary tract infection all at the same time. Running around trying to find a doctor and medicine was horrendous. I stayed in a hotel with her for 2 days, she was so sick.
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