IV in an African Clinic

Well an end to a busy weekend has just come. Two basketball games, a hockey game and adventures with an Elf on the Shelf, that was just today. We finally got our Christmas tree decorated, its been up for a few days but we have been so busy that that was as far as we got.

Back to my African clinic adventure. When I first got sick, my supervisor, who I just met at the beginning of this job, thought I couldn't handle being in this country and was debating on getting me a flight home. The other driller, my buddy from the west coast, told him I was good and something must be up. My first and only IV was in this little clinic with no front door and no doors or curtains to the three small rooms they had. They barely had a floor so I guess I couldn't expect much.

I am pretty sick at this point. Fever, no appetite, when I did eat it wouldn't stay down, in and out of sleep and cold sweats. The doctor, an older African Gentleman with a thick Swahili accent, ran multiple tests. A short time later, he tells me I have Typhoid and Malaria, which seemed weird for me because I had injections for Typhoid and tables for Malaria which is supposed to have a 80% chance of not contracting the disease. Two nurses, male and female, administer the IV, hook the IV bag full of fluids and start to poke holes in the top of the bag, which I'm assuming it was to let air in? As he was about to poke the holes he drops his small needle on the floor, picks it back up, checks the end and continues to pokes the holes. One would I think I would be concerned about this at the time but I felt so horrible and they were the "professionals" so I left it alone. I receive 1500 cc's of saline fluids because they told me I was dehydrated, I'm not a doctor but I am sure I wasn't dehydrated, and the first of seven injections of Typhoid medication. We head back to the hotel and I tell my supervisor that something seems off, again I'm not doctor or medical professional but how could they be so sure I have either of these diseases when I'm supposed to have the vaccinations and medication for them.

After we get back to the hotel my supervisor asks how I am and if I think I should have a second opinion from another clinic. We had travel insurance and when we talked with them the first time they recommend a hospital in the city, but with the ferry ride, traffic and travel time we were looking at two to three hours one way, something that none of us wanted to do so we chose the clinic close by. We decide to travel in right away and not waste anymore time. Meanwhile, P is sitting back in Canada not knowing what to think, I just got out of the hospital while being told I have Malaria and Typhoid on the other side of the world in a third world country.

We get to the hospital and get checked in. Of course this is not a hospital you would see in North America but it was better than the clinic with no doors and a hole in the floor for a toilet. The older nurse, who reminded me of an African version on my grandmother, my step fathers mother, who was a retired nurse here in Canada, was a kind soul. She was very loving and didn't drop any needles on the floor before she poked them in an IV bag. Her and her colleges of course run their own testing and thankfully I have a bacterial infection from the food at the hotel, basically food poisoning. Even though I was still very ill, this was a sigh of relief and I could call my wife, who didn't want me to go to Africa in the first place, and tell her I wasn't dying. They start me on a cycle of antibiotics and I start feeling better each day. My co-workers though, not so much. Three out of four expats that were there got sick but I guess I was the guinea pig who had to spend some time in the clinic first.

We end up finishing the job with a successful municipal, 550 metre deep, water well for the area. Before we left we were able to travel to Mikumi National Park and take a day tour safari and see many animals in their natural habitat. Two of the boys stay back for a week for a bit of a vacation. One other took a position with the company we drilled the water well for, he stayed for a while but went back to the UK where he was from. Even after all the issues we have had and the dangers of going there, I still loved it and I would go back again. I actually asked P recently if we could take a vacation there someday, of course her reply was "no way, you go if you want but I am not!", can't say I blame her.

I returned to Canada with the worst work boot tan ever and I looked hilarious in shorts and flip flops but it was worth it to say the least. Here are a few pictures, most are from Tanzania but the picture of the two boys with the four hour old goats from a farm that we drilled beside in Ethiopia and the last one was my crew while I was there.