Finally had my appointment with the tropical disease clinic. Seems what I had in the Philippines was likely dengue fever.
So exotic sounding. Feels like I should look like that shivering, yellow guy in Out of Africa who’s secretly taken the Kikuyu wife.
(I did actually feel like that. Except for the secret concubine thing).
Still feeling quite fragile, actually, and not so thrilled about going to Uganda on Tuesday after finding out that there’s no prophylaxis for dengue (I knew that) except not getting bitten by daytime mosquitoes, and if you get it a second time, you can end up with a hemorrhagic fever. Which, according to my doc today, is “fine in the first world, but you don’t want to be bleeding in rural Uganda.”
I think that time in the Philippines now officially counts as the Worst Holiday Ever. “Two women found themselves unexpectedly alone in an far-off land at Christmas, finding nervous friendship and laughter and quiet underwater joy in the midst of heartbreak, until one was felled by dengue fever.”
Feeling like maybe I shouldn’t have made fun of that woman on the Baja trip who wore a bug net every time we left the ship.