Recovery

So, yesterday I woke up with a sore throat.

There was a tell-tale twinge whenever I swallowed something, but I half-hopefully told myself that it was just a cold catching up from my weakened immune system. I soldiered on to work with Jordan (fellow intern who also lives in Obs), and had a day of popping tylenol, sucking on halls, being sorry for myself, and feeling inadequate next to Jordan's air of practiced marketing shmooze with clients.

We are going to be renting a car for the duration of our two months stay, to make the transiting easier. As things stand now, it takes a solid hour and fifteen minutes, each way, to get to and from Steenburg from Observatory. We leave at 8:30 in the morning, and get back at 7:15. Since we are advised strongly to NOT take the train after dark (which is at 5:45, before we even finish work) we sort of had to. Since I've gotten used to bleeding money lately, I took it in stride, and figure I'm really going to to enjoy being able to wake up a full hour and a half later anyway.

But back to yesterday. Yesterday was a truly awful African winter day. It was completely pouring rain. That is not hyperbole; it was endless torrential deluge that fell in sheets all afternoon and evening, and I did not have an umbrellla, or even a proper coat, due to the whole luggage issue. As well as the immediate world being soaked to the bedrock, it was freezing in the winery. Buildings here are made without insulation, since the winter is so short and the summer and spring so hot that having insulation makes the heat impossible to bear. Floors are typically just cement, walls are thin, and windows are large and always able to open. Between the rain, the cold, and no sun showing through the layers of impossibly thick, slate-grey cloud, the tasting room was icy and horrible, and I was wearing slacks, nylon socks, and a cotton blouse with a thin sweater, since I have no proper clothes yet and was thoroughly unprepared for days like this.
Neither was Jordan, thankfully, so we thought it would be expedient to call a cab. We did, and since we were off an hour earlier that day, we asked it to be at the gates for 5:15.

Long story short, there was a another kerfuffle of repeated directional phone calls, lost patience, too much money, and we arrived back in Obs by about 6:00, which wasn't too bad. Jordan happily practiced the marketing shmooze on Solomon the Cab Driver, and it was, all told, a very entertaining ride. I had never heard the phrase, "My man!" used un-ironically, but it came out with remarkable panache. Kudos to business college.

By the time I arrived at home, dripping wet, feeling more and more ill, and chilled to the marrow, the telltale twinge had become a full-blown stab in my throat whenever I tried to swallow, and I realized that I had someone managed to get strep throat whilst in Africa.

After a scalding shower, tea with honey, and tearful advil-taking, I settled down for the evening, hoping that my three day weekend would be enough to kick it, provided I sleep and drink lots of fluids and gargle regularly with salt water.

I awoke this morning feeling like I was swallowing ground glass, and when I lurched out into the kitchen, a few of my roomates were up eating breakfast. I was asked what my plans were for the day, as they were planning a horse riding expedition, and I explained that I was going to drink tea and stay in bed all day because I had strep.

Immediately, Carolyn (The fellow sushi fanatic) insisted that she was taking me to clinic this very afternoon.

 I protested, saying that you don't necessarily NEED antibiotics for strep, (they just really help) and she said  No, no, and proceeded to tell me a story about when she first got here, she'd been sick for a while, and kept putting it off assuming she'd get better, and when she finally took the admins advice and went to the clinic-

It was less than a 20 minute wait, all you need is your passport because they have free health care here modeled after Canada's, and that she also needed penicillan and it cost her 80R (about 10.00) at the pharmacy once she had the prescription. She said she wished she'd gone the first day she felt shitty, because it turned out she had a chest infection, and that since she had a car she would bring me to the clinic and wait with me and then pick up any medicine with me afterward.

I have truly tremendous roommates, and for all my perceived woes, the universe has a lovely habit of giving me people who take care of me right when I need them. After breakfast, showers, and a round of laundry we went to Groote Schuur Hospital- which, incidentally, is where the worlds first heart transplant was achieved. Random.

It was a busier day then when she'd been there, but all told, it was wonderful to have someone who knew. Once we found the walk-in, which was a mission in itself, it wasn't more than half an hour before I was checked in, had vitals taken (Where Carolyn helpfully filled in my info while the nurse checked me out. "You're like my mom! Thank you!" I croaked), and was able to go into the other waiting room to open a file for myself and then see a doctor.

Carolyn, who at this point had underestimated the time a bit, was looking nervously at the clock every so often.

"Dude, really. I will be fine from here. You have been more than amazing. Seriously, thanks."
"Are you sure? You can get home?"
"I'll be fine."

So, off she went to collect the girls for the horse adventure, and I waited for my turn to open a file.

When I was called up, I explained that I was a Canadian citizen, gave my passport, etc. All I was told to do. Then, the attendant asked me if I knew that, as a registered foreigner, I would be required to pay a deposit of a very large amount of money to be seen.

I looked quite shocked, and explained about Carolyn, the girl who'd brought me here, having been treated here recently and not mentioning a deposit at all.  He looked up her information, and found that her balance was currently being handled by the Canadian Embassy, because she hadn't paid it. He explained that, sometimes, some of the desk workers would check foreigners through without taking the payment there because it would just go through to the respective embassies. Easier for them, but ultimately creating more paperwork for the hospital and embassy.

I must have looked completely despondent, and the universe sent me another caregiver.

He stopped midway through my file.

"Here," he said, starting another sheet on a different form, "I'll register you as South African. Your names? Shannon, King... Both common here. Not overly American sounding, and you have a local address. This form, you don't need to pay. Just don't say you're from Canada in there, ok? You can't hear an accent with your voice like that anyway." (referring to my hoarse croak)

So, I went through to the waiting room with my South African medical file, was seen in less than 10 minutes by a kind, efficient doctor who checked out eyes, chest, and throat and wrote me a script for a week of antibiotics which should have me feeling right as rain in 48 hours. I should also stay in bed and drink plenty of fluids for the next 24-48 hours if possible.

Possible? Wonderful! Tea and chicken soup, here I come! God bless random kind strangers and serendipitous roommates!

I walked down to the pharmacy at the Pick 'n Pay, then walked home through Obs back to Howe St, which is where I live. It was only about 15 minutes together. I was home by 3:45, and had my first pill shortly after 4, with chicken and spinach soup.

I am now sitting, wrapped in my enormous wool coat of destitution (I'll explain next post) and drinking water while I update my life. Hopefully I'll feel worlds better tomorrow, and can begin focusing on work, getting a camera, and finding some better work clothes.

Oh, and my weeks worth of anti-biotics? 42R, which is about $4.25.

SCORE.

Oh, and I also bought some stress tea! Even if it's a placebo, if I feel slightly less high strung, I will sing it's praises.