Ti Blan: a Haitian kreyol word meaning "Little Foreigner"

I started that last entry with, "Water is life", a line we throw around a lot on the days that we're working in Kisenyi. I'm always encouraging everyone around me to drink more water- I refuse to give the boys medicine for a headache until they've had a full glass of water. Abby and I are on a campaign to teach our boys in Ssenge the value of staying hydrated.

As I mentioned, though, our water is not the best for convincing people to drink more. Even I have a hard time with it. I'm really looking forward to those water filters arriving here...

On Wednesday, as I was working in Kisenyi, I realised that I was sick- more than back pain, more than chest cold sick. This was the feeling that if there was a space on the floor for me to lay down on, I would curl up and cry myself to sleep. I eventually said no more, I just can't take care of another kid. I sat down in the corner and leaned against the wall and let everyone else carry on. I didn't know what was wrong with me, just that something was.

I'm exhausted from not sleeping well at night, so I've resorted to Tylenol PM. Even that has taken care of the insomnia problem completely, though.

On Thursday, Lutaaya came to Ssenge- he found me asleep on Wasswa's bed. He went and did some errands, and when he got back- he found me asleep on Umaru's bed. I had gotten up to open some windows, and didn't have the energy to do anything else. "Jess, I don't want you going on that trip tomorrow. I think you need to go to Kampala for a few days and rest. And I think you need to go get your blood tested."

As much as I wanted to fight his suggestions and say that I was feeling fine...I knew I wasn't. I agreed to his plan.

So, Friday morning I slept in (I kept hearing George telling the other boys to be quiet, Jessica was resting)and then made my way to Kampala. As I was walking to get a boda, I had that same desire to curl-up and cry...something's wrong with me. On the way to Kampala, I called a friend who works at the hospital, and she agreed to meet me at the gate. She took a blood sample and went into the lab where she works- a while later, she and her colleagues came to tell me I don't have malaria or brucellosis, but I do have typhoid.

Typhoid.

I'm not supposed to have that. That's a bad word- I don't know much about it, except it comes from bad water. I know I have that, I understand what bad water is. But I'm not supposed to be sick with this word, I took pills to prevent that. I've got too much to do, I've got kids to take care of, programs to plan, things that need to keep running smoothly.

So I get the medicine and come back to the house here in Kampala- it's quiet and cool, and I have a chance to rest.

So today, Saturday, I'm spending the day resting and reading up on typhoid. It doesn't look exciting, and I'm glad it's been taken care of in the first stage. I don't even think I've had any fevers, or any sypmtoms to make me feel bad, except being tired.

My mom called me almost immediately, concerned for my well-being. I was actually in Kisenyi, in the slum, when she called me- some other muzungus wanted to visit our outreach there so I took them on the condition that I didn't have to do any work or do any medicine (I admit, I did take care of a few kids). When the boys realized I was talking to my mom- whoo hoo, we wanna talk too!!! But I promised my mom- and I promise anyone else who reads this and is worried about me- I PROMISE that I'm being careful. I didn't knowingly drink water that was contaminated. There are some things that happen even when you're being extremely cautious. I only drink boiled or bottled water. I am taking medicine and monitoring myself.

And, probably the best thing- I have friends who take really good care of me. Between African Hearts people and the guys from Voice of Hope that I work with in the slums, they're keeping me in check. When my back was out, Martin, from VofH, found me a doctor and took me there. Lutaaya is insisting that I rest and will make me go to another doctor if necessary. Whether watching out for my health or for my safety, I've got some of the best bodyguards I could hope for. They seriously keep an eagle's eye on my safety and are never far away...in Kisenyi, I'm always within a few feet of someone, and a phonecall away from a concerned, "How are you feeling now? Did you get home ok?"

So despite my typhoid, despite my exhaustion, I know I'm going to be ok. There are watchful eyes on me, and there are prayers for my healing and return to good health.

Ok...signing out. It's naptime.