My Merengue with Dengue

Smelling your prey is always step one; it’s kind of like stepping into the food court at the mall – there is this sensory overload that overtakes you like a werewolf at the appearance of a full moon. Suddenly, once the hunger consumes you, there isn’t much time for thinking clearly. Your nose becomes the guide that will lead you to the proper meal – the meal that will act as fodder for the beast that burdens your empty belly. Finding a meal in an environment like this one proves to be quite difficult with the abundance of aromas present, yet that doesn’t tame your appetite. Taco? Burger? Ethnic? Just a snack to hold you over for later? Whatever you end up choosing, your eyes roll back into your head as your teeth sink into the tasty treat. Success and satisfaction… until next time.

In my mind, that’s how a mosquito operates – except instead of being hungry roughly 3 times a day, a mosquito has an infinite appetite. Zombie-like endurance keeps their engines roaring as they mindlessly buzz from one helpless human to the next. And it’s always a surprise party – the host never has any idea anybody is coming over to raid the fridge. These vampires with wings don’t stop until the place is trashed and you’re left with an itchy, red bump to deal with. Now that is if you happen to have a run in with a normal mosquito – some of these guys and girls have spent their lives feeding on anything they can get their hands on. These greedy, shallow little buggers will chomp down on anything they can, and we all know from health class that this comes with consequences. Now, instead of being a burglar that just sneaks in, takes what they want, and leaves with only a small mess for the victim to take care of, the rap sheet begins to take on a little more length.

We all knew we were in for an interesting week or so when Phil got sick. Usually, Phil is one of those guys that can always lighten the mood by taking care of that pesky silence that can enter a room full of people. Sometimes, he never stops talking – kind of like a kid who was told to stick to water for the rest of the evening, but decides to keep sneaking Capri Suns from the fridge instead. On this particular day, it seemed like poor Phil reached for a Capri Sun, but instead of diving head first into a pouch of fruity, succulent sugar-water, he made his way into a glass of warm milk and whisked himself into a dreary muddle of mundane. He just wasn’t himself. He had no energy, he was lethargic, and he kept complaining of achy body parts. We all knew teaching these kids could be tough, but what the hell did they do to Uncle Phil?

Our Thai co-workers never fail to act swiftly and quickly, so they sent Phil to the hospital to get checked out – as is tradition. It seemed a bit drastic, being that these were the first signs of sickness he was showing, but since the closest thing our school nurse had to a band-aid was a cartoon picture of a kid with a band-aid on, it was probably a good first step. So, to the hospital Phil went, and in and out of that very same hospital he went for 3 days. In between periods of sleep, agonizing muscular discomfort, and blood donations, we found out that Phil was indeed quite sick – he had Dengue Fever.

With the little knowledge we had of Dengue Fever, coupled with the wonders of Wikipedia, we were all a bit rattled up over this realization. Before coming abroad, you hear tons of nonsense about the laundry list of vaccinations and precautions necessary for survival abroad, but thinking about it happening so close to home (or in our case, literally in our home) is slightly unnerving. It was also a bit odd that when we relayed this news to our Thai co-workers and they were not surprised. In fact, in that week alone, there were close to 100 cases of Dengue Fever in our small town of Tha Bo.

With one roommate down with the Dengue, the rest of us replenished our artillery of mosquito repellence; by that I mean we bought a couple cans of bug spray and a mosquito zapper for the house. Although one of our comrades had just fallen victim to the pest that is a mosquito, our house is located directly on a swamp and a block away from the mighty Mekong River. As much of an inconvenience as mosquitoes and Dengue Fever are, we are the ones who parked on their turf. On top of that, it is near impossible to prevent mosquito bites – Tha Bo is a town constantly filled with mosquitoes, temperatures rarely dip below 90 degrees so wearing long sleeved items of clothing is slightly uncomfortable, and covering yourself in chemicals gets expensive and unhealthy. Getting Dengue was a possibility in all of our futures and we were going to have to do our best to keep our immune systems ready for war.

Monday, June 17^th 2013, Phil Painter is diagnosed with Dengue Fever.

Wednesday, June 19^th 2013, Robert Sohigian suspects he may have Dengue Fever.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to hop on the bandwagon and receive a bite from a mosquito that went down the wrong path in life. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I had Dengue, but when I got to school on Wednesday, it felt like my entire body was dead weight. As I taught my first class, the florescent ceiling lights created this rhythmic, pulsing headache that intensified the wider my eyes were open. A Thai classroom is a headache’s nemesis: There are beaming lights; it is hotter than an attic in July; and Thai kids are really good at squawking sporadic, high-pitched shrieks throughout every lesson. Every word I spoke, more sweat spilt down the sides of my face. Every time my lips parted to utter another English phrase, my words left my mouth and would jumble with those of the student’s – all I heard was one incredibly loud and distorted mess of discombobulated sound.

The student’s began to notice after a few minutes of me being in the classroom – my glossy eyes, coupled with my wobbly demeanor might have tipped them off. “Teacher, you okay?” One after the next, they would ask me that question, and my delayed response was a blank state, followed by, “Yes, I’ll be fine.” In reality, I was one deep breath away from crashing down onto the floor, leaving behind a room full of freaked-out Thai kids. Luckily, I held myself together for the remainder of the class and made it back to the office.

Going to the school nurse was probably a logical next step; I was never a fan of making a fuss over being sick (I prefer the “stop whining” approach), but being that I was mildly hallucinating, it seemed quite low on the whiny scale. When I got to the nurse, a male teacher, and a group of 20 or so students sitting in a big circle gave me the traditional Thai school greeting: “Hello teacher; how are you today? They all looked at me, awaiting a response, and I blankly stared back at them, miming that I need to use a thermometer to take my temperature. After a few brief seconds of silence, there was an eruption of laughter. I was a bit confused and began to laugh as well. Just to make sure it wasn’t a language mistake, I repeated my gesture and said, “Do you have a thermometer I can use to take my temperature?” Yet again, it was as if I was on stage telling a series of utterly hysterical jokes – they wouldn’t stop laughing. Finally, once he gathered himself a bit, the teacher in the circle told me that I needed to go to the hospital; they did not have a thermometer at the school. I will just say that one more time – a school that is home to just under 2,000 students does not have a thermometer in their nurse’s office. I would also like to take this opportunity to give a quick “hip-hip-hooray” for the Thai Ministry of Education. Way to be guys! Instead of taking 5-minutes out of my day to take my temperature, I had to take a couple hours to go to the hospital to get my temperature taken. Thai-logic.

After providing my entertainment services to the group at the nurse’s office, my landlady saw me stumbling around campus (my landlady is also a teacher at the school) and told me she was taking me to the hospital. So, off we went, and Ajarn Mok (Ajarn means “teacher” in Thai) felt that on the ride to the hospital, it would be the perfect time to teach me a lesson about Thai language. Mok is an amazing lady – she takes great care of me, along with the rest of my roommates. She feeds us and makes sure we are comfortable in her home. One thing that she does not do well is understand social cues. When I am sitting in the front seat of a car, profusely sweating and barely conscious, the average person would probably just drive the car in silence. Mok handed me a pouch full of Thai “Scrabble” pieces and had me spell out Thai words on the dashboard.

Miss Mok - my landlady, co-worker, and Thai Mom. 

We pulled into the parking lot at the hospital and Mok quickly exited the car and was yelling and motioning for me to follow her. “Bop! Bop! This way!” (Many Thais pronounce my name, “Bop.”) I took my time, putting all the “Scrabble” pieces back into the pouch, and then followed Mok into the hospital. The atmosphere in a Thai hospital is like a DMV head-butted a hospital, sprinkled with a stock-market trading floor. You start off by walking down a long corridor, making many lefts and rights along the way. For the people who can’t afford a private hospital room, they are placed in this general population area right out in the open, laid out on gurneys. After winding through the corridors, you step into this giant hall where you pick a number. Before you sit down, you weigh yourself and stick your arm in this blood pressure/heart rate contraption – if this machine were to malfunction at any point, I am certain it would eat your arm off. Luckily for me, my arm was not eaten. After these prerequisite tasks are taken care off, you sit and you wait.

It was a long and arduous process that particular day at the hospital. I was going in and out of a deep sleep as I slouched in a bouncy, yellow chair in the waiting area. I’m pretty sure Mok was talking to me the entire two-hours we were sitting there and I’m also pretty sure I didn’t listen to a word she said. I do remember that she pulled out our electricity bill and decided it was the perfect time to tell me that someone in the house had been leaving their air-conditioner on all day, resulting in an incredibly high bill for the month. At the time I could care less, so I just would give a polite nod and drift back off into la-la-land.

We finally did get out of the hospital after what was close to 3-hours. Here is how the process works: First, I picked a number, took my weight and blood pressure reading, and then sat down to wait for the nurse; when they called my number, I saw the nurse and she asked me a series of questions about how I was feeling and she took my temperature with this super-duper, futuristic beam of light they pointed at the side of my head (my temperature was 39 degrees Celsius, or 102 degrees Fahrenheit); then I sat back down and waited more; then I saw a doctor and he told me that they have to wait 3-days to take a blood test because I may just have a cold. So, after 3-hours, I had gotten my temperature taken and was told to come back three days later if the symptoms got worse.

I got dropped back off at school and finished teaching my remaining 3 classes that day. Once I got back to the house, I got into bed and slept from 4pm until 8am the next day when I was woken up by Mok with breakfast. “You musss ead much food when you are six!” (You must eat a lot when you are sick) exclaimed Mok. I slowly slid my feet, one after the next, toward the table to find Phil along with our breakfast of noodle soup and pickled pigs feet. With pathetic slurps, we took down the broth in silence, and gave Mok a polite “mai chai” (technically in Thai it means “not yes,” but it is a good way to say “no thanks!”) when she shoved the plastic bag of rubbery, juicy pigs feet in my face. For my entire 2-week sickness stint, Mok was yelling, “Bohhhhhhhhhhhhp,” at my door 3 times per day with the intent to let me know that she had a meal waiting for me. As annoying as this can be, she is one of the nicest people in Thailand.

This was my setup for about 2-weeks - thanks Mok!

I returned to the hospital to get my blood test, and as you may have guessed, the results came out positive. Part of me already knew I had it; I just needed the confirmation. You may be asking yourself: what is Dengue Fever? Good thing you are reading this blog post because right now, at this very moment, I will tell you what happens when Dengue Fever crashes your party. A little mosquito who is carrying the disease decides to suck your blood. After this mosquito takes a swig, you most likely have become infected with Dengue Fever, but it can take up to two weeks for any signs to begin occurring. The symptoms consist of: High-fever, the chills/sweats, a rash covering your entire body, fatigue, pain behind the eyes, headache, severe muscle pain and dizziness. I had all of these symptoms. Although there are many symptoms, the only remedy for Dengue Fever is time.   

            With this newly acquired knowledge, I also learned something else: the recovery period for Dengue Fever was roughly 2-weeks. I may not have mentioned this, but I do not sit still well. It is a trait that I inherited from my dad and unfortunately cannot get rid of. If you paid me a large sum of money to sit in Lazy Boy for a week, my skin would be crawling. Needless to say, I knew that this recovery period would be quite interesting.

After sleeping for roughly the entire first week, I began to see some signs of improvement – meaning that I was awake for a majority of the day. Although it was a slight improvement, I still had to sit around and “rest” all day. This meant a week of eating, drinking copious amounts of liquid, popping the pharmacy of pills I was given by the doctor, watching movies, and surfing the web.

 As terrible as Dengue Fever was to me, the people in the Tha Bo Community were on the opposite end of the spectrum. I received get-well cards from students, gifts from fellow teachers, meals from Mok, and endless support from Emily and my roommates. Especially towards the end of the two-weeks, when all I really needed was a “shut up and lay down, Bob,” they were there to tell me that. So, thanks for the help and support guys; I made it through Dengue! It is tough watching some of the students and other community members head into the hospital with the same symptoms, but I know they will get through it. I guess my advice for anyone who gets sick or bumps their head while abroad would be this: Be patient and be honest with the local people – they want to help and will definitely put you in the right direction if you give them a shot.

            With that said, I’m alive and well at this point. It’s time to keep on keeping on! See you next time.

-Bob