Thanks again, Alexander Flemming

I get sick a lot in Peace Corps. Really, people who don't get sick a lot in Peace Corps are the exception. For a lot of my service, at least the first year, I maintained the (extremely false) belief that I hardly ever got sick. I didn't really question this until I mentioned my lack of illness to a friend once, and he was like "What about that kidney infection? And the time you couldn't breathe very well?" I took mental inventory and then realized that indeed, I was sick quite a lot. I swear there's a sort of amnesia involved with illnesses here. One day you can be dying with food poisoning, and then a few days later, no big deal, you're eating slightly sketchy but delicious foods on the bus again. No fret man. 

This time, an intestinal infection knocked me out. I went to the Peace Corps doctor because I hadn't been feeling great, and they ran some tests. I almost didn't go because I'd been feeling slightly better, but I'm so glad I did because they found some sort of slightly obscure parasite. How hipster of me. There's no way to be sure of its provenance, but a good guess is probably water or cabbage salads from my rural schools. I've gotten careless with these things as time has gone on, feeling invicible due to the above mentioned amnesia factor. 

Ironically, after I went to the doctor and taking antibiotics, I started feeling worse. Somehow, I managed to give a co-facilitate a workshop to a group of English teachers in San Carlos yesterday (mind over matter), and then promptly proceeded to have intense stomach pains during the 2 hour bus ride home, which took extra long because we stopped to load rice onto the bus. Como no. Today I'm feeling better, but I've dedicated the day to lying as flat as possible and trying to eat little bits of food like gatorade and soda crackers. 

It's humbling to realize that if antibiotics hadn't been invented, I could be potentially be very very sick or even dead  in this moment. It's also amazing to think that in much of the industrial world, we've improved our water supply to the point that getting a parasite seems like an insane thing to have happen to you. Embracing one's fragility in the midst of the arrogance of one's twenties is perhaps not the worst thing. 

At the same time, it's frustrating, feeling knocked out any time I want to focus on side projects or even just my main job. I need to write syllabi and a grant right now, but I can't focus on numbers, already a huge weakness of mine, to save my life and I'm feeling terribly uncreative. And I'm missing the Patron Saint Festival, which is actually fine, because I won't lose my hearing and see all my students drunk. Still it makes me a little sad because I was supposed to hang out with friends I haven't seen in a while. 

But such is life. It's good to have to be more flexible and roll with the (literal) punches (to the gut).