Mission: Attempt to read, write, and speak an ancient dialect spoken in the high sierra of the Andes mountains of Peru. You will be trained in two weeks of intense classes in the Capital city, and be rewarded with hot showers and internet. Your trainers will provide authentic musical instruments and will teach this new language via your second language, Spanish. There will be many times when you will need a translation from the translation. This mission will prove to be difficult yet entertaining, and will provide two years of practicality but will be of absolutely no use later in life, should you choose to accept it.
This is what happened:
Somewhere in the week, I got sick. (Surprise, Surprise!) I usually would think nothing of it, this being the normality a PC volunteer. However, I'm approaching the long-awaited RE-CONNECT.
Re-Connect is the much-anticipated time when all the volunteers from my group (minus the 2 who went home), get together after having lived in our respective sites for three months. The goal of these past three months was to collect data and get to know our communities for our Community Diagnostics. We will be presenting our Diagnostics next week at the beach! Not only will I get some sand between my toes, but I will see the friends I haven't seen since training in Lima.
Needless to say, I called the PC Medical Officers (PCMO) who ordered a stool sample. I don't like the idea of returning to site sick where I have no cell phone service or internet, especially since I will only have a few days to ask any remaining questions for my Diagnostic.
Sunday, March 8: Day 5 of digestive issues. The sulfur burps have subsided, but now anything that I eat goes right through me. Immediately. I am supposed to return to site today, but there is no way I'm doing the combi/taxi combination for three hours. This is when I'm convinced to call the docs.
I find myself standing outside the clinic in the afternoon rain. The doors are locked. I had just eaten a banana in preparation to give the "sample" and now I'm on the phone awaiting further instruction. The PCMO says she will make some calls to get the clinic open, which is supposed to be open 24/7. A few moments later, I hear a phone ring inside the building and a man's voice talking. I have hopes he will open the building for me. The PCMO calls back. I will have to go to another clinic. I am instructed to go immediately to the lab. They are expecting me.
I take a taxi across town and get out in front of a huge hospital. The front doors are locked. Seriously? I walk around the side and see an ambulance parked inside a locked gate. I yell hello several times, but no one answers. I walk back to the front, try the doors again to no avail, and ask someone if there is another door somewhere. He points to the other side of the building. Phew. I walk in and ask where the laboratory is. The male receptionist asks what I need. I don't know how to say what I need to say in spanish, so I try to explain I need to give a test at the laboratory. He picks up a cell phone, talks to someone, then turns to me and says the lab tech is eating lunch and will be back in an hour. What?!?! It is 3pm. I can't get through to the PCMO because she has been dealing with some other emergency all day. So I sit, and wait. My intestines are churning and my sample is not happy to remain in my body for so long.
When the PCMO calls back, I hand my phone to the receptionist. He tells her to hold on. I watch in disbelief and some humor, as he hands the phone to a tech standing there. He hands it to someone else, who asks who it is, then hands it to another person standing near the front desk. They are playing "hot potato" with my cell phone and with my doctor waiting on the line.
Finally, I am handed a plastic cup. I give them my sample and return to the front desk. The receptionist is trying to figure out the paperwork and insurance. He calls someone, then I call the PCMO, then he calls someone again. They tell me to return tomorrow for the results. I tell them no, I am not coming back. Call my doctor with the results.
I flag down a taxi and have the nicest taxi ride ever. The old man asks the typical questions and I tell him all about the Peace Corps and my program, I bring no money just human resources, quechua classes, and living in Peru. When I get out, he turns around to shake my hand and thanks me for the work I'm doing in his country.
I find myself standing outside the clinic in the afternoon rain. The doors are locked. I had just eaten a banana in preparation to give the "sample" and now I'm on the phone awaiting further instruction. The PCMO says she will make some calls to get the clinic open, which is supposed to be open 24/7. A few moments later, I hear a phone ring inside the building and a man's voice talking. I have hopes he will open the building for me. The PCMO calls back. I will have to go to another clinic. I am instructed to go immediately to the lab. They are expecting me.
I take a taxi across town and get out in front of a huge hospital. The front doors are locked. Seriously? I walk around the side and see an ambulance parked inside a locked gate. I yell hello several times, but no one answers. I walk back to the front, try the doors again to no avail, and ask someone if there is another door somewhere. He points to the other side of the building. Phew. I walk in and ask where the laboratory is. The male receptionist asks what I need. I don't know how to say what I need to say in spanish, so I try to explain I need to give a test at the laboratory. He picks up a cell phone, talks to someone, then turns to me and says the lab tech is eating lunch and will be back in an hour. What?!?! It is 3pm. I can't get through to the PCMO because she has been dealing with some other emergency all day. So I sit, and wait. My intestines are churning and my sample is not happy to remain in my body for so long.
When the PCMO calls back, I hand my phone to the receptionist. He tells her to hold on. I watch in disbelief and some humor, as he hands the phone to a tech standing there. He hands it to someone else, who asks who it is, then hands it to another person standing near the front desk. They are playing "hot potato" with my cell phone and with my doctor waiting on the line.
Finally, I am handed a plastic cup. I give them my sample and return to the front desk. The receptionist is trying to figure out the paperwork and insurance. He calls someone, then I call the PCMO, then he calls someone again. They tell me to return tomorrow for the results. I tell them no, I am not coming back. Call my doctor with the results.
I flag down a taxi and have the nicest taxi ride ever. The old man asks the typical questions and I tell him all about the Peace Corps and my program, I bring no money just human resources, quechua classes, and living in Peru. When I get out, he turns around to shake my hand and thanks me for the work I'm doing in his country.
Tuesday, March 10: I get the results from the lab. They find nothing--no worms, parasites, giardia, amoeba, bacteria, virus. The only thing that shows up is a high white cell count which could indicate presence of bacteria. I'm given a prescription for antibiotics. Third round since September. I ask if I can pick up the prescription to bring to site, but not take it if I feel better. She says that's fine. In the meantime, my diarrhea has cleared up on its own.
Healthy again, I return to the tranquility of site. I will unpack, complete my Diagnostic, then pack again. For the beach!
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