Motivation Monday: Sick

Last week's meager mileage

Training program for the last week = rest while I get over what might have been strep throat. I did nothing last week. I did a little work, but I work from home so that was mostly done from the couch. I napped a lot. I drank lots of water and decaf tea. My doctor gave me prescription-strength ibuprofen to help with some of the aches and pains until a strep throat diagnosis could be confirmed or ruled out. The rapid test only tests for one strain, so I had to wait several days for results to come in to see if I had one of the other strains.

I didn't. I just had a weird cold that was acting more like strep throat. I'm starting to feel well enough for some easy running.

But now it's snowing. I had planned on January being a base-mileage month for me and I was prepared to get those miles outside, even if it was cold. I had wanted to get as many of them in as possible before the snow started because, yes, even with Yak Trax, I'm afraid to run on slippery roads, sidewalks, and paths. I've fallen too many times and as I'm getting older, those bumps and bruises hurt more and take longer to heal. I know everyone who gives me advice on running outside in bad weather means well, but there are times when I'm not going to take the chance.

I'm not the kind of person who can run through a cold, either. Not always, at least. When my body says "Sleep," I sleep. When my body says, "I'm a little uncomfortable but could handle an easy run," I go for that easy run. There's way too much "Just do it! Tough it out! Don't be a wimp!" and not enough "Listen to your body and rest when you need it," in running these days. It's a main reason I stay out of most online running groups and forums. I don't want to be made to feel bad about my decision to rest when I'm sick. I've been running since I was 15 and these kinds of comments can still get to me. I can only imagine how hurtful and damaging they might be to a newcomer to the sport. We should be encouraging new runners to listen to their bodies. Let them have their own series of trials and errors to figure out what's right for them. Encouragement to move combined with empathy for an injury or illness that prevents the workout from getting done.

So I rested for a week. And I will be getting treadmill miles done if I don't feel comfortable going outside in certain conditions. And I will be comfortable with my limitations and my goals, and when I'm no longer comfortable with them, I will change them. 

Glutened!

I've been gluten-free due to celiac disease since 2003. For the most part I've been awesome about managing it and the gluten-free market has improved so significantly since then that I sometimes just stop in the grocery store, staring in disbelief at all the choices that didn't exist ten years ago. I've lived in and traveled through several countries without major incidents. I don't get to eat every delicious food that crosses my path. I give up a lot of treats just because I can't be certain. I always remind myself that my health is worth more than that one amazing dessert.

I had gluten once in Bamako, in July 2014, within days of my arrival. I knew what I'd done; I recognized the pattern of my gastrointestinal distress as what happens when I eat gluten. As a precaution I went to the doctor to rule out parasites and food poisoning because I was in a new country with different food safety practices and germs I hadn't been exposed to before. They treated me for dehydration. I lost several pounds. It was a shaky start to my time in a new country but I recovered.

The culprit of the gluten was unexpected but quickly determined. Beef brochettes at a pizza place. There was so much flour being tossed around the kitchen with abandon that it covered every food inadvertently. And thus the psychological aspect of celiac disease set in. In a place where I already felt isolated by being an outsider, I couldn't frequent one of the most popular expat restaurants with my friends. One time I tried drinking a glass of wine while my friends ate but it was hard to smell the pizza and the grilling meat and watch everyone else enjoy it while I couldn't even eat the inherently gluten-free dishes.

For almost three years, all over France, Mali, Austria, Kenya, and the United States, I avoided gluten until a few weeks ago. There are two pizza places in our neighborhood and they both do a decent gluten-free pizza. I still prefer the one I make at home but sometimes I want to have pizza in a restaurant with my friends and family so I've come to rely on these two restaurants. I ordered my usual gluten-free pizza for pickup to take to a friend's house for dinner.

The pizza in question.

 By the time we sat down to eat I was so hungry that I ate two slices before I realized it was too delicious to be a gluten-free pizza. I'm not going to lie. After the initial horror of discovering it I was tempted to eat more since I was going to get sick already. But I didn't. I did finish off Mike's beer, since I hadn't had real beer, other than an occasional tiny sip, in so long.

Then I anxiously awaited the pain in the lower left side of my abdomen that usually signifies gluten poisoning. I barely slept that night, wondering if it was the gluten causing my sleeplessness or the nerves of waiting for the symptoms that caused it. By the next morning my stomach was still fine and I began to question everything that had happened. It wasn't a relief to not be sick. It was more nerve wracking than usual, knowing that I'd eaten gluten but my symptoms weren't manifesting in their usual way.

By about noon I realized what was going on. Inflammation. I'd never had it before but I knew it was a common symptom for many people. Full body ache. Exhaustion. Skin so sensitive I recoiled when Muffin tried to hold my hand. My plan had been to bring my pizza leftovers back to the restaurant to find out what happened with my order. By the time Mike got home from work I could barely get off the couch without great discomfort so he took them back for me, explaining to the manager that I was too sick to go myself.

To the manager's credit, according to Mike he was horrified. My receipt said "gluten-free" on it and my crust was clearly not their gluten-free crust. He looked up the name of the person who prepared my order so he could yell at him. He refunded us for the pizza and gave Mike a gift card for fifty dollars. He told Mike he wanted the chance to make it up to me personally, once my appetite for pizza from their restaurant returned. Two days later the manager called me to see how I was doing.

I was much better, gluten-wise, by the time he called, but the gluten weakened my immune system enough that the horrible cold Muffin had had, that I'd thought I'd successfully fended off, moved on in. I was still on the couch, although from a chest cold and sinus infection rather than inflammation.

And the thing is, unlike when I have the gastrointestinal problems from gluten, I never lost my appetite, even for pizza. Again the psychological games spring up, having to rebuild my trust with that restaurant. But a week later I was at the other restaurant enjoying a pizza while the waiter talked about how they recently changed to a new gluten-free crust that customers said was tastier than the old one. (It was pretty good, as far as gluten-free crusts go.)

Mainly I'm angry because it was one more setback after a winter and spring of injuries and illness. One more week that I couldn't run as much as I wanted to. A few more days that I couldn't do any kind of workout. It was while I was sick on the couch that I signed up for the two ten-mile races for later this year. I'm tired of being sick and injured and I really want to stay on track.

The Dull Roar of a Million Peep Toads

Is what I’m listening to right now. We had a night of heavy rain and around five o’clock this morning when I got up to use the bathroom I could hear them as I passed by the window. By the time I got up later for breakfast, they were so loud we could hear them in the living room above the sound of the air conditioner. If there weren’t so many mosquitoes right now we’d be outside poking around mud puddles looking for toads and tadpoles.

But we have to be extra careful of mosquitoes right now. Africa has thrown a few challenges at us in our first week here.

First thing Monday morning Muffin and I took our anti-malaria pills. We call it Malaria Monday and take the pills with breakfast. Later that day I found out that the pills the travel clinic in Rhode Island gave us are no good here. The local malaria strain is resistant to chloroquine so we have to get on mefloquine ASAP. Unfortunately we can’t overlap the two, so we have to wait a couple more days before we can start the mefloquine, which means we are on high alert for avoiding mosquito bites. We have Deet and bed nets so we’re doing the best we can. As tempting as it is to go outside in the relative coolness after the rain, I think we need to stay away from the bugs.

I was hit with some kind of stomach thing on Tuesday. On Wednesday I felt bad enough to see the nurse at Mike’s office. I wasn’t quite sick enough for her to think I had an infection and she didn’t think I’d been here long enough for a parasite to gestate so the best she could do was treat me for dehydration, which was definitely one of my symptoms and certainly something that could lead to the other symptoms I was suffering from. For twenty-four hours I drank a horrible-tasting rehydration solution, but it seems to have done the trick. I’m not 100%, but I feel much better today than I have any other day this week. The five pounds I gained during my winter hibernation have vanished.

I’ve had some ups and downs with the housekeeper. Mostly, she’s very good and is trying hard to be helpful, but due to the language barrier and my not feeling well it’s been difficult to give her accurate instructions. I did some successful grocery shopping yesterday and tutored her in soaking dried beans and making a vegetable soup that I found appetizing, so the good meal has improved my spirits as much as anything could. To be fair, she probably knew how to make this soup already, but my French wasn’t good enough to instruct her in what I wanted, so I needed to show her exactly which vegetables, herbs, and spices to put in. I did not find the Chinese market yesterday, which is rumored to have tofu, but I think I pinpointed the neighborhood it’s in so I should be able to find it next time.

I don’t know how much coverage the airline crash in Mali is receiving in the rest of the world (because due to all the rain, the satellite isn’t working so we have no generic international or American news, only what I choose to read online). I’m glad we flew last week, though, instead of this week. The flight between Paris and Bamako was turbulent enough without landing during the thunderstorms we’re having now.

I’ll end with a few photos from the week. You can follow my photos on Instagram: http://instagram.com/stephaniesdiamond

The fire finches like to hang out in our windows.

Storm clouds on Thursday afternoon.

The view from our balcony.
There's no filter on this; it really does look like the 1970s here.

Feeding our eight parrots.

The Gluten-Free-Free Void

We learned last week that Muffin does not have celiac disease. She has been gluten-free her whole life as a precaution. My brother and I both have celiac disease but neither of us exhibited symptoms and were diagnosed until we were in our twenties. Genetically there was a very good chance the same would be for Muffin. While living in India we could not get Muffin tested accurately; conversations with pediatricians and nutritionists showed that they didn't even know what I was talking about when I said, "gluten free." Once we were back in the United States for good, I made an appointment with her American pediatrician who made arrangements for Muffin's blood screening. She ate gluten for two weeks and never exhibited any symptoms. Three different screenings were performed and not a single antibody was present in any of them, so her pediatrician is confident she doesn't have celiac disease.

I'm relieved that she doesn't have celiac disease. It makes school, parties, and all other times out of the house so much easier. But there's also a void. (I know, another void; see yesterday's post.) I've spent so much time over the last three years worrying about Muffin's diet as well as my own but I hadn't realized it until I suddenly only had to worry about myself again. I've sort of lost my enthusiasm for gluten-free cooking now that I no longer have to nourish a child with it. I don't have to prove that gluten-free alternatives are just as tasty as their glutenous counterparts. She can just eat the gluten foods with Mike now. I feel like I can get by with mediocre food, or just skip most treats altogether, since it's now only me who needs to eat gluten free. I wasn't expecting to feel this way.

Moving Panic Officially Begins Today

Image from Threadless

The craziness before moving begins for real this week. Dentist, eye doctor, Muffin's pediatrician. A few last pieces to bring in for framing. A chair or two for re-upholstering. Lunches and coffee dates to say "good-bye" to friends. The movers come two weeks from today and we fly out a couple days after that. I'm not that worried about the actual packing. The movers will do all the physical labor for us and whether it's in our suitcases, air shipment, or boat shipment, everything will all get back to us eventually.

I'm panicking over what happens after we're packed up. We are having trouble getting new U.S. driver's licenses. The hotel I wanted to stay in is booked so I had to choose another location that's slightly less desirable. It feels like all our "free" weekends between July and October are all booked up already. I need to find a house to live in. I need to get Muffin into preschool. Some of these things I can't do until we land in the United States, but that's not stopping me from worrying about getting a game plan in place.

I woke up feeling sniffly this morning. Muffin's had a slight cold all weekend and Mike is a bit under the weather as well. We are kicking into "just getting by" mode.

I'm trying not to let yoga and running fall by the wayside over the next few weeks. My mind has been wandering more than my legs lately, though. I'm sick of the park. I'm tired of the treadmill. I'm anxious to be back in the United States where I can wear my shorts not just for running at the gym, but any time I leave the house, whether it's for running, going to the grocery store, or anything else.

No One Tells You About the Smell: And Other Adventures of Eye Surgery in India

I'm typing this with limited vision. But I'm bored and my painkillers are now in full effect so I'm taking my chances with the bright screen for a few minutes. (Thanks to a high school typing class I can do a pretty good job with my eyes closed.)

On Friday I had my PRK eye surgery. It was about as terrifying as I imagined it would be for about twenty minutes. One relief was that they only force one eye open at a time; for some reason I thought they would both be forced open at the same time. The doctor was soothing and conversational, talking me through each step. I relied on my yoga breathing to help me relax. And then there was a horrible burning smell. I never made the connection between lasers and eyeballs burning together. I panicked a bit but there was nothing I could do except try to keep breathing. My fear of moving my eye and messing up the surgery overcame my revulsion of the smell. (Mike later told me that he intentionally didn't tell me about the smell because he knew I'd never go through with it.) They did my right eye first. My left eye didn't take as long and since I was prepared for the smell it wasn't so bad.

The surgery part when precisely and perfectly and surprisingly on time. But as usual for India, the follow-up bedside manner left something to be desired. They gave me some sunglasses that were hardly dark enough and set me down in a sunny, well-lit waiting room. They gave me a juice box, which was nice. They handed me a sheet of instructions that I couldn't read. They explained that I needed to take three different eye drops four times a day for the next week. One person told me to take them five minutes apart, someone else told me ten minutes apart. They told me to take one tablet for pain after lunch and another one after dinner and they told me to use a skin patch before going to bed. Then someone dropped me off at the door and I fumbled with my phone to call my driver. When he pulled up I gave him my instruction sheet from the doctor and told him to go to the pharmacy and pick up all the drugs listed. He parked me in the shade and went in. He came back a few minutes later and handed me a little bag and asked me to look at the sheet and check the contents of the bag to make sure they matched. I pretended to read and said "Sure, it's fine," because I couldn't see and I had no reason to assume that the pharmacy at the eye hospital wouldn't give me what I needed to recover from eye surgery.

Ah, but you know what they say about assuming things.

I got home that day before Muffin, so while I was still on the anesthetic from the surgery I fixed myself some lunch and made the final preparations to hunker down in my bedroom for the afternoon while Muffin stayed with the baby-sitter. I took a pill, put on my patch, and felt pretty groovy for the afternoon.

I took my dinner-time pill and did my eye drops and had a reasonably good night's sleep. I had a follow-up appointment first thing Saturday morning so I woke up early, took my eye drops and my last pill, and got on the road.

I'm a little hazy on the details from then. I remember sitting for a long time in a sunny waiting room again. I saw one doctor who said that despite some irritation in my right eye, both eyes were healing as they should be. Then they wanted me to wait and see another doctor, but he was in surgery. I watched patients go in and out of the office. I don't know how long I was there but my pill was starting to wear off and I was still in that sunny room. I got up and made a scene. My appointment was at 8:00 and it was nearly 10:00. I just had surgery, I needed to be at home resting, not sitting in a sunny room indefinitely. The first doctor I saw happened to walk through and witness my scene. He grabbed my arm and led me to another room. Within a few minutes I had my appointment slip for my Thursday appointment to have my contact lens band-aids taken off. I went home, took my eye drops, and laid down.

By Saturday night I was in agony. I couldn't understand why the pharmacy hadn't given me more pills, but I was too delirious to think about asking for more. I assumed my last pill that morning was meant to get me through the worst of the pain and I began to fear that my worsening pain now was due to an infection or botched surgery. I was loading up on extra-strength Tylenol, but it wasn't making a dent in the pain. I'm sure I was near passing out at one point on Saturday night. By Sunday afternoon my eyes were even more red and irritated than they'd been the day before and my pain was getting worse. Mike remembered from his own surgery that I was supposed to be feeling better by this point in the recovery.

He called the emergency contact number. And there was no answer. He called the main receptionist and from his side of the conversation it sounded like she kept asking why he'd called her instead of the emergency line. Eventually she told him to bring me in.

Considering how badly a visit to the emergency room could have been on a Sunday afternoon when Mike, Muffin, and I were already pretty cranky (the baby-sitter and driver were already gone for the day so it was a family adventure), it went better than expected. I saw two doctors who both agreed that my eyes were healing just fine and they couldn't understand why I was in so much pain. Finally one of them asked me if I was taking my pills and using the patch. I said I used the ones that were given to me on the first day but I was all out. I told them exactly how many pills and patches. They said that was only a one-day supply and I was supposed to get enough to last for a week.

I had essentially gone through the worst of the pain with no painkillers.

I told the doctors I gave my paper to the pharmacy and accepted the number of pills and patches they gave me. I said if I was supposed to take more, how come no one told me that and how come it wasn't written down for the pharmacist to know that? They apologized and wrote me a new prescription. It still didn't say how many days' worth to get.

And this is a problem I've had with doctors here in India. It's up to the patient to tell the pharmacist how much medicine to give out and that is totally ridiculous. Never mind all the abuse that's happening as people get way more pills than they need to drug themselves or sell them, but what about people like me who are delirious after surgery and have no idea how much medicine I'm supposed to be taking? It needs to be written down somewhere! This seems so obvious to me.

The pharmacy at the eye hospital was closed and another nearby pharmacy was closed so Mike drove to a hospital near our house and we decided on three days' worth of medication. (And if I need more I can send my driver out for it, since there's no concept of dates or number of refills.) By the time he got back to the car and gave me a pill, I was nauseous with pain and saw strobe lights when I closed my eyes.

Even with the meds, Sunday night was pretty hellish. But I was doing much better by Monday morning.

This post was written over the course of several hours, in between eye drops and pain pills. I'm feeling much better and even went out of the house for a little bit today, with sunglasses and a hat. My vision is getting better and my irritation is decreasing (the irritation in my eyes, at is, not with the health care system here).

Lose Weight Fast, the Cold and Flu Way

I feel like I don't run this body lately.
Image from the mile-posts blog and pinterest.

Take a cold that's so bad that all food tastes awful and my throat hurts so much I can't swallow anyway, a molar without a crown, and add a little bit of E. coli and you have the perfect way to drop those last few pounds before summer! Never mind all the running, yoga, and ab workouts I'd planned. A pair of shorts that was too tight two weeks ago fits perfectly now. And summer comes early in the year in Hyderabad. In just a couple weeks we'll be approaching 100-degree days and Muffin's play group will start meeting at the swimming pool at one of the hotels where Western bathing suits are not frowned upon. All of this could not have come at a better time to get me into bathing suit shape.

I still have the same nasty cold as last weekend although it's less nasty now. On Sunday I ran a little bit on the treadmill, finally feeling more bored than sick. On Friday night, though, my sore throat had gotten so bad that I couldn't eat, talk, or even move my head from side to side.

And yes, I said E. coli. It was found in our water distiller last week. Not all strains cause the violent food poisoning symptoms so we were lucky to avoid that. However, when I reached out to other distiller owners I learned that it can be the source of a "general malaise," which we have definitely had in this household for a few weeks. Not quite sick, but feeling yucky all the time. I'm feeling less yucky since I stopped drinking from that distiller on Thursday.

Since the root canal, my tooth still doesn't have a crown. I'm not sure of the exact reason but I suspect they wanted my cold to clear up before I went around breathing all over the office and people stuck their fingers in my mouth. That makes sense. I've had the permanent filling in for over a week now and the tooth feels fine. Frankly, I've been too stuffed up and had too sore of a throat to contemplate sitting in the dentist's chair any time soon.

Every time I try to do yoga, my sinuses start pounding when I put my head down, so I'm taking the rest of the month off from my classes. I'll start up again in March. Our housekeeper should be back to work this week so I can get out to the treadmill a couple times while she baby-sits Muffin.

I hope that we can only get better from here. We need a few weeks of good health and activity before the summer heat saps us of all our energy.

No Smelly Lake 5K on Sunday

We didn't make it to the second 5K on Sunday. I'm sick -- again. My root canal is still not finished. I have the permanent filling but no crown. A friend of Mike's was visiting this weekend and on Saturday afternoon when I realized I wasn't in the mood for being congested, having an achy jaw, and running around the smelly lake at 8 o'clock in the morning, I released Mike of his obligation to race, too, so he and his friend could stay up late on Saturday night. We all went out for a nice breakfast on Sunday morning and met up with some of the racers (who shared their specially ordered Shamrock Shakes with us! Thanks guys!).

Our housekeeper has a twisted nerve from her fall on Friday. She's on bed rest for several more days and is wearing a support belt. She sent a friend over to our house today to do a little cleaning in her absence. I really appreciate having someone here to wash dishes and fold laundry. Our house in the U.S. must have an automatic dishwashing machine. It is non-negotiable. Doing dishes is the worst. I'm without a baby-sitter for a few days, though, so no yoga classes and no treadmill. I've got the jogging stroller and I've got my Jillian  Michaels DVD. I'm also expecting some yoga DVDs in the mail any day now (birthday present to myself) so I am not entirely without a workout strategy. And there's always Just Dance on the Wii, which Muffin loves.

From AnotherMotherRunner.

My new shirt arrived on Friday (above). It made me feel like taking charge of my life. Until I got so sick I could barely stand. I'll have to take charge in a few days.

And I Thought Our Case of the Mondays Was Bad

I don't even remember now what happened on Monday to prompt me to write the Facebook status, "This family as a serious case of the Mondays." (By the time I finished writing this post, I remembered. In the hour between Mike leaving for work and Muffin leaving for school, Mike lost his wallet and Muffin simultaneously peed on the floor and spilled strawberry-banana smoothie on the dining room table. From 7:30 to 8:30 in the morning is a magical time of day in our house.)

This morning on the way home from dropping off Muffin at school, I noticed a person laying on the ground with another person standing over him or her and our driver pointed out that it was a woman being beaten by a man. I wanted to stop and help. I think he wanted to stop and help. But instead I asked him to call the police and report it. I knew it probably wouldn't do much good, but I didn't think my stopping would have helped the situation much, either. She probably would have just been beaten even more later on. I was torn up all morning about not doing more. I hate feeling so helpless. I can't help thinking, though, that if the reports keep coming in then eventually the police will have to do something.

After lunch and after Muffin went down for her nap, I was reading in the living room when our housekeeper limped in, crying. She'd slipped in the laundry room and had severe pain in her hip / lower back / tailbone area. I gave her an ice pack and some Tylenol and told her to sit or lie down for a few minutes, whichever was more comfortable. By the way she was crying and wincing I was afraid she may have actually broken her tailbone. It became evident that even if nothing was broken, she was uncomfortable and didn't have the physical ability to baby-sit Muffin later this afternoon when I went out for my dentist appointment. I told her our driver could take her home. But she couldn't stand up. So I had our driver take her to a local hospital for x-rays. The driver and I had to carry her down to the car. Thank goodness Muffin was napping and didn't have to see all of that. The driver is staying with her until someone from her family can join her.

I'd really like to crack open a bottle of wine right now and throw in the towel on this day, but there's still the matter of my dentist appointment. I was able to push it back from 3:00 to 6:00 in hopes that Mike will be home in time to stay with Muffin. It's the fourth, and hopefully final, visit of a multi-visit root canal. Real fun. It might hurt less and I'll be more relaxed if I've had a drink or two, but it somehow feels inappropriate.

And there was no hot water for my shower.

And  Top Gun was on TV and I turned it on just in time to see Goose die.

I should have known what kind of day this was going to be when two Smiths songs in a row came up on the iPod shuffle this morning.

Oh Nose!

This is not a running-related post or an India-related post. This is a two-tired-parents-of-a-sick-toddler post. Just warning you now. It's not gross; just parental.

The plague has hit our home and so far it has hit Muffin the worst. When she has a stuffy nose, she says she's feeling "nosy." We've had that nosy feeling all week long. It started with a little head congestion and has moved into a full-on runny nose and cough. She never actually had a fever and didn't seem over-tired, so after Monday and Tuesday being school holidays, I sent her back to school for the rest of the week. She seems pretty overcome by the cold now, though, and has been sad and snuggly since I picked her up today.

Mike and I are just plain exhausted, me to the point where I'm collapsing at bedtime and not hearing when Muffin wakes up coughing at night. Mike's been doing all the middle-of-the-night medicine giving and humidifier refilling, which I am so grateful for. According to my dailymile profile I ran three miles this week but I don't even remember doing it. On Tuesday I was feeling unusually warm and exhausted, and low and behold, my temperature was higher than usual. Not really a fever, but high enough that I was really worried about getting sick and put the brakes on the whole day. We sat on the couch watching TV and dozing. And that's the day Mike came home from work, put Muffin to bed, and then collapsed into bed himself at 8:00 pm. I think that's the only night in the last week that Muffin has slept all the way through.

Er.

That leaves me not really knowing what to write next, so here are some photos of Muffin with her kite. Last weekend was the kite festival and Muffin had some fun before she got sick.

Have Yourself a Merry Dental Christmas

I just finished my lunch of applesauce and yogurt, courtesy of my latest visit to the dentist. I got my blood work done; I got the dental scan done (that experience is a whole short story unto itself that I've been working on); I was on antibiotics for five days. I went back to the dentist on Monday and the swelling and pain were very much reduced. The scan showed some sort of growth -- either soft tissue or bone, it's still unclear -- in the area where my wisdom tooth was removed four years ago. The dentist wanted to do a deep cleaning around the back molar and "snip" off the growth with a laser. I talked to the American doctor who determines what amount of dental and medical stuff can be done here and what needs to be done in a more reliable location. She told me to get the deep cleaning done here; depending on the amount of pain and discomfort afterward I can be sent to Singapore for immediate surgery or I can wait until I'm back in the United States in July.

I got my deep cleaning done yesterday and they did a pretty deep investigation of the area, all but snipping off the growth. Oral surgeons, oral pathologists, root canal specialists, radiologists, have all either looked at my scans or into my mouth -- and in some cases done both at the same time. They stuck these acupuncure-like needles into my gum and took x-rays so they could see exact angles of things going on in there. They concluded that my wisdom tooth extraction was "complicated." There may have been damage to the nerve that supports the back molar and there's a gap between the molar and the gum; it's that little gap that's filling up with whatever's growing. (My theory is small gnome or dwarf.) There wasn't any food stuck in there causing decay, which is good news. But no one is 100% positive of what's going on in there.

I feel like I've been punched in the jaw. Tylenol and cold, soft foods for another day, although I felt up for some slightly warmer than room temperature coffee this morning. I should be able to nibble on the five-star, black-tie dinner we're going to tomorrow night. (There's panna cotta for dessert, and that's cold and soft!) I'll go in for a follow-up visit in a week, assuming the pain and swelling continue to go down.

Why did I get this done so close to a big holiday? Because I want answers as soon as I can get them and if I'm going to be in discomfort I'd like to get started on being on the healing side of that discomfort.

I haven't been working out, but I haven't been eating much either. There's nothing like the threat of oral surgery to help you lay off the holiday snacks.

Going to the Dentist

No Motivation Monday this week and my weekly wrap-up of HBBC might wait until next week because I didn't do much last week, workout-wise. Instead of writing up a Motivation Monday post, I spent Sunday worrying about a bit of bone or tooth that broke through my gum in the spot where a wisdom tooth was removed four years ago. I spent Monday worrying about my dentist appointment for that evening. I don't like going to the dentist even under the best circumstances in the United States. I was very nervous about going to a dentist in India even though the clinic I was going to came with lots of great recommendations from friends and colleagues.

You know how George Costanza wants the doctor to give him a "Get out of here!" but instead he has to get more tests done? I was hoping for "Well, it's a little weird, but it's a chip leftover from your wisdom tooth extraction four years ago. We can get this out, no problem." Instead of my "Get out of here!" though, I got, "Hmmm, we can definitely see something wrong but the x-rays are inconclusive and the gum looks infected. Get a CT scan of your head, a complete blood panel, and take antibiotics for a few days and we'll revisit this." I say "we" because at one point there were four people trying to stick things in my mouth at the same time. They kept telling me to open wider so they could stick more stuff in there and I just couldn't do it. There was a lot of talking in Telagu that I didn't understand, which made the experience even more terrifying. What could they be talking about? It's weird knowing people are talking about you and not know what they are saying, especially in a medical situation where as that patient, I should be in on the conversation.

I got my blood work done today and I'm waiting for the dentist to send me the antibiotics prescription (he wanted to consult with my regular doctor first). Tomorrow I'm getting my CT scan. The gum has healed up over whatever it was that was sticking out but it's still quite tender and painful. I'm still on Tylenol for the pain and I'm eating foods that are not too crunchy, not too sweet, and not too spicy because anything else is too uncomfortable.

I was pretty pleased with the cleanliness of the dental office, so that's something.

One of the Dangers of Getting Out of Bed

This morning, unlike yesterday morning, when my alarm went off at five o'clock I got out of bed, got dressed, and went out the door for a run. An easy three miles. But after a half mile, as I was passing a house I've run and walked by a hundred times, a dog ran out and bit me. I'd heard dogs barking, but there are always dogs barking. I was on the other side of the street so as not to bother the dogs that I know are always at that house. For some reason one of the dogs was spooked this morning and my usual stomping feet and yelling and waving didn't scare the dog off like it always has to dogs in the past. And no one seemed concerned about a dog barking and a woman screaming in the middle of the road early in the morning.

It's just a scratch. My ankle feels pretty bruised though. I couldn't turn around and go the short way home; that would have me passing the dog again. So I walked and then ran slowly along the next-shortest route home. Since my run was so short, just over two miles, I was home before Mike and Muffin were even awake.

I woke up Mike and asked him to take photos of the bite to email to the doctor, to see if I'd need to come in for a booster shot. I've had the rabies vaccination, but booster shots are supposed to be given after a bite. Yup, any breaking of the skin, even a little scratch, should be filed under "Better Safe Than Sorry." So I got one shot this afternoon and I'll get another one on Friday. I brought Muffin with me so she can see Mommy being brave and getting a shot; maybe she won't freak out quite as much at her next vaccination.

I am aware of the risks associated with running on the road in India and in many countries throughout the world. I'm not going to stop running. I'm not going to hide on a treadmill. I'm not going to drive to the park when it's only a mile from my home and I'm training for a half marathon so need the extra mileage anyway. I'm going to take the risks under consideration and decide that it's not likely I'll be bit again. One time in thirty-six years of playing and running outside isn't bad. I might start running with pepper spray while we're living in countries with a high risk of rabies.

I'm not setting my alarm tomorrow morning. I might even have a second glass of wine tonight. Dog bites -- even little ones -- warrant some rest and relaxation.

The Littlest Supporter of Breast Cancer Awareness

This morning we attended the Pink Ribbon Walk in Hyderabad, the kick-off event for Breast Cancer Awareness month. It was a short two-kilometer walk and we were surprised at the number of people who participated.

In India the rate of detection is so low that the majority of women who have breast cancer aren't diagnosed until such a late stage that it is usually terminal. In Western countries it's easy for women to talk about their health. But remember a couple of centuries ago, when (male) doctors in the West had no idea what was going on with women's health? In India, because of the conservative culture, it's more difficult for women to discuss health problems with their doctors. It's more difficult for them to seek out treatment because of a lack of trained specialists. And then it's nearly impossible to pay for medical bills. Here in Hyderabad, KIMS (Krishna Institute of Medical Sciences), the organizer of the Pink Ribbon Campaign, is working with corporations and charities to get free and low-cost mammograms and treatments to the women who need them.

The press was mad for Muffin, especially once she got a hold of a sign. This is one time I didn't mind all the photos. If her little mug on the front page of the newspaper helps raise awareness it will be worth it. 

I Broke My Toe

Now, when Muffin leaves her toys laying around and we tell her she'd better pick them up before someone trips and kills themselves, we have evidence to back up the claim. Granted, she's too little to pick up her things so this accident was technically my fault and I didn't exactly kill myself, but the point is it could happen.

Shortly after Mike left for work this morning, I put Muffin in her bouncy seat and placed her in the bathroom while I took my shower. After the shower I took her out of the seat, placed her on the bed in our room, and proceeded to trip on the bouncy seat, jamming the metal bar of a leg in between two toes. I trip on things all the time and have probably broken several toes without even realizing it, so it took me a few minutes before I looked at my foot and realized something was wrong. The fourth toe, the one next to the pinky toe, was sideways. This was more than a stubbed toe; I needed professional help.

I called Mike, who was with our neighbor and their driver. As soon as they got to work, they sent the driver back to our building and the neighbor's wife showed up to help me package up Muffin and go with us to the hospital.

Once we got there, I walked up to the regular admitting desk and they said a doctor couldn't see me until 11:00. It was 9:00. So I walked over to the emergency desk. This wasn't an emergency, but if a doctor had time to check me out, why not give it a try?

Word soon got out that an American was in the hospital, and an American woman with a cute baby at that, and suddenly the service got very good. My friend sat with Muffin while I was whisked back to the xray room. Then in the exam room, my friend and Muffin joined me while a parade of doctors and nurses came in both to explain every little detail and to see the baby. One doctor even took out her phone and started taking pictures of everyone holding Muffin.

The xrays showed a small fracture of the bottom bone and dislocation of the bone on top of it. They popped the toe back into place and wrapped it up using the neighboring toe as a splint. They gave me some pain relievers and told me to come back in one week to have it checked out. I should stay off my feet and elevate my legs for a couple days, and use an ice pack.

All that for less than $40, and we were back home before 11:00. That's great healthcare.

I am so thankful that I had a driver and a friend available to help me, too!

Condition Baby Imminent

It's our last child-free day! I'm going to the hospital tonight to be induced. My blood pressure is high and my blood sugar has gotten harder to control, so the doctor said it's time to come out. And we agree. The last week or so has not been easy for me.

It's a day of final preparations. I'm making cupcakes to eat post-delivery. I've been craving cupcakes for months, but being on a no-sugar diet for the pregnancy made cupcakes an impossible dream. (I wasn't willing to try cupcakes that are both sugar-free and gluten-free. That seems like a huge waste of cupcakes to me.) We're also making sure cell phones, camera batteries, the ipod, the Kindle, etc., are all charged up. We have bags packed and lots of snacks. We have scouted out the Dunkin Donuts nearest to the hospital so Mike can make post-delivery coffee runs. (I've been mostly caffeine-free for the last nine months because caffeine makes the baby jumpy, which makes me even more uncomfortable.) Oh, and the car seat, bassinet, and all that baby stuff is ready to go, too.

We start at four o'clock this afternoon and hopefully by that time on Friday, we'll have a little baby on our hands.

Travel Time Again

Now that a date is set for my departure, it feels too real and I'm not ready to leave yet. Eight weeks from today I'll be taking off.

Not to mention the fact that when I get home I have to give birth to and start taking care of a baby. Don't get me wrong, we're thrilled about that. It's just not the way we'd originally planned on spending our summer vacation and some days we haven't fully adjusted to that yet.

Now that we have a date set, we can't procrastinate too much longer on the departure preparations. We have to decide what goes into my suitcases, what gets forwarded from here to India, what goes back into storage, and what comes with Mike later on in his suitcases.

We have to get the cat her rabies vaccination and health certificate and pray that the airlines will let her on the plane with me, because by the time Mike flies home it will probably be too warm for excess baggage pets. (She's too big for in-cabin, and she's a huge pain; I wouldn't want her in the cabin with me.)

I have to gather up my detritus of medical information, from all the different doctors and nurses I've seen here, scan and or copy it onto standard 8 1/2 x 11 paper (my papers from the local doctors are all different sizes) and forward it all to my doctor at home. And get this, she won't accept emailed PDFs! I tried to tell her that never in the history of this country has a fax successfully been sent, even though they have several fax machines and try real hard, but her office refuses to give me an email address. I'll have to find one of those online PDF-to-fax services. (But really, who doesn't email PDFs these days? Or at least make an exception every now and then? And isn't a PDF scan better quality than a printed out faxed version of a PDF scan? I'd think that you'd want the best quality you can get for things like ultrasound images.)

Like with every move, I know all this stuff will get taken care of somehow. I always get to the point where I resign myself to knowing that no matter how crazy it gets, the stuff will get packed up and sent somewhere, I have plane tickets (miraculously for this early in the process), and I have a place to live when I get to my destination. I know by now that no move is perfect so I like to aim low, in the region of not disastrous.

The Acid Bug

My blog will now join the short list of results that pop up when you search for "nairobi fly, acid bug" on Google. Mike was hit by one over the weekend.

The Nairobi fly is a small beetle that does not bite or sting, but based on its nickname acid bug, guess what it does? The insides of the bug are toxic, and if you smack it against your skin the juices cause a burning rash. They are common throughout East and Central Africa, and it's the season for them here in Burundi. We think Mike and his friend rode through a swarm of them on their bikes over the weekend, because his friend has some burn spots, too, and the spots appeared on both of them after they returned from the ride.

We've heard of two remedies to soothe the burning, but Mike hasn't tried either yet. One is to use toothpaste, the old-school white kind, and the other is to cut a potato and rub it on the burn area. Both the toothpaste and the potato are supposed to draw out the acid. If you wash the area immediately after discovering you've smashed one of the bugs, you can reduce the inflammation. If you have extremely sensitive skin, apparently having one just land on you can cause small burning spots; Mike witnessed a friend in Congo show up to work one morning with "footprints" across her cheek.

Mike's doing fine. His burn patch is small and I think it's irritating more than it's actually burning.

Image from the blog Muda Mrefu.

I just sneezed all over this blog post

I refuse to believe the flu vaccine gave me the flu. Mike and I got the live vaccine, the nasal spray (yuck!), because there's a shortage of the killed vaccine shot here, and we are young, healthy adults who can handle it. I expected mild side effects; I always get them when they are there to be had. But I didn't expect that after a weekend of mostly sleeping, I'd start feeling worse every day instead of better. 

To be accurate, I don't have a full-blown flu. I have mild precursors. I'm annoyed that resting, drinking tea, and taking vitamins hasn't healed me yet. This morning I woke up feeling the worst I have in days, with a headache, achy neck and shoulders, and a sore throat. I'm not quite sick enough to stay home, but just sick enough to be mildly uncomfortable at work.

If we stayed home from work every time we felt even mildly sick, as we are constantly informed we should be doing to prevent spreading germs, we'd never get any work done. We have cycles of feeling flu-ish every couple of months from all the new and exciting bugs in the air here. We were probably going to feel like this for a few days anyway, and the timing of the vaccine was just a coincidence.

We got vaccinated for the same reasons we did last year. We live in an undeveloped region where if there's an outbreak, it will spread quickly. We also travel often through international airports, which are hotbeds of germ transferral. We've only received the shot for the seasonal vaccine. The H1N1 vaccine may be made available to us; if it is, I'm getting it. For those same reasons. 

The real worry will come in a day or two, when my supply of Riccola herbal tea from Switzerland runs out. I don't know what they put in it, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's illegal in the States. It makes me feel magical.

Rabies and other diseases -- it's all part of the Africa fun

No, I don’t have rabies and neither does any one I know. A year ago when we were getting our vaccinations in preparation for moving to Burundi, we were strongly advised to get a rabies vaccination because we are outdoorsy types and not only will we be facing feral cats and dogs, but bats and monkeys as well. However, we were also told that the vaccination is extremely difficult to get in the United States but that we’d probably be able to get it in Burundi.

Huh? America doesn’t have it but Burundi will? That didn’t sound right.

Of course, Burundi did not have spare rabies vaccinations. You can get the shots if you get bit by something, but preventative medicine? That’s just crazy talk. It’s only taken a year, but a nurse I work with has gotten her hands on enough stuff to vaccinate us. And it arrived just in time, because a friend of mine was bit by a monkey down south in the Nyanza Lac area and we’ve recently seen monkeys on our street. Monkey invasion!

The vaccination is three shots within a month. We had our first shot on Tuesday. My arm is achy but surprisingly I haven’t had any other side effects. (You may remember that I actually got the mumps and measles for a weekend after my MMR shot; only on one side of my body though.) After this round, I should be vaccinated against nearly every possible microbe, bacteria, germ, virus, parasite…. Except cholera. Apparently cholera vaccines are even harder to come by than rabies vaccines.

Oh and as a bonus, I don’t have H1N1. The nurse doesn’t know exactly what I’ve got but the most likely culprit is irritation from all the smoke and dust in the air, since my symptoms worsen whenever the air quality worsens.