Unique Muslimah

It’s been one thing after another regarding my health since I arrived in the land of the Pharaohs (otherwise known as Egypt). The first week I was severely sunburned and my eyes sunk as my skin swelled up five times its size. Thankfully that came and went within a week, however painful it was. A few other aliments occurred but nothing as severe as what I have been going through these past couple of days. I caught the Egyptian plague. I call it a plague because it feels like I’ve been cursed with one. But in medical terms, I’ve got an infection, an all-style Egyptian infection that has brought on a fever.

Now the Egyptians I know have been giving me their opinions on why I’m so sick. The superstitious will tell me I have been given the evil eye from relatives who envy the fact that I come from abroad and get to cruise on a high life when I visit Egypt (little do they know, I spend most of my holidays visiting doctors). The sympathisers will declare that my body is too fragile and I really need to start looking after myself more since I’m not a child (thank you for the reminder). The medicalists (if there is such a word) will tell me that I come from a very cold country and suddenly I am exposed to abnormal heat (for my body) and then I use the miracle called the AC (Air Conditioner), so being in a hot/cold environment- something I’m not used to- sends my body to boycott and call it a day. Then you have the severists; they believe a person who is ill is being punished for a sin they committed (the only sin I can remember committing recently is eating that chocolate cake). While the religious will tell you that God is trying to bring you closer to Him, which is why you are being tested through illness and that all your sins are being erased through your pain. The logicalists will tell me it’s my fault for using the AC and it’s better to sweat to death than commit suicide with a man-made machine.

I don’t know which opinion I want to believe in at the moment because I’m in no state of mind to be making rational decisions or opinions, it’s a miracle I’m writing this post as I shiver under my bed-sheets. What I can tell you, however, is that they should make a prison for these kind of viruses, they should write up a whole Geneva convention and call this son-of-a-gun that invaded my body a number one terrorist. Now I think it’s the meds talking, so forgive me if I BS.

It’s strange how a fever can crawl up on you without notice. Bang and you’re lying for dead and calling out strange phrases in a different language that might as well be Swahili. Then bang, temperature goes up to 40 degrees, something the body just can’t cope with. Severe shivering happens while you toss and turn, screaming, hallucinating. Then there’s the throwing up and the sweating. I honestly thought I was a goner last night, it was 24 hours since the initial virus hit and I was at my peak, I was crying my eyes out, saying things in Arabic like “ana hamoot” (I’m going to die). Then I switched to English when I realised I wasn’t going to die but instead continue enduring the torture inflicted on me, so I screamed out “I want an injection, just gimme a doctor!” It was impossible to get a doctor before that time because they were all either far away or their shift wouldn’t begin until later that night (where are docs when you need them, hey?)

So even though I was delusional and hallucinating up to my eye balls and honest-to-God thinking I was going to die because of the pain I was in, I asked a family member if they could call one of our neighbour’s, who is a doctor, to see if he knew a doctor who could come see me. I remembered that the neighbour doctor wasn’t a doctor who could help me, he was specialised in something else. So I learnt that not all doctors’ are useful, bah humbug. An hour later he calls my father and tells him that he knows a very good doctor who will come over at 9am (12 hours from that phone call) but that he could call him now and the guy would give us the name of an injection to lower the 40 degree temperature I had. We called the doctor and he gave us the injection’s name for us to buy from a pharmacy and all we needed was a nurse to give the injection, another obstacle because none of the nurses home visited and I was in no state to walk, I couldn’t even visit the toilet, let alone travel to a hospital.

After an hour and a couple of pain killers, I forced myself to get up and get dressed to find this nurse who would inject me. Honestly, if someone told me when I was a child that I would actually WANT an injection, I would have told them they’re crazy- I hated injections, I once ran away from a nurse and they had to lock me up until I got my needle, cruelty to children I tell you. Anyway, since the pharmacy was a short distance away, we decided to walk it. God, it felt good to be out in the wind (oddly enough it is windy these days, or maybe that’s the virus talking). As we got to the pharmacy the guy tells us the nurse just went home. I was ready to scream out all the swear words I knew. Instead I came out with “Oh shit” (sorry kids, it just slipped out of my delusional tongue). They just stared at me, as I slapped my mouth, aware I just swore, and told me there was a clinic next door that had a nurse. More walking. Fine. Got there and finally got the injection. I was sweating buckets by then. And I thank God for giving whoever made that injection the inspiration to create it. Because since then (around 23 hours ago), my temperature has gone down to 37 degrees, a miracle I tell you. The cramps and muscle pain I had on my legs have gone, the hallucinations have gone; high temperatures have a lot to answer for- I couldn’t sleep for 24 hours straight because of the pain I was in.

Now I’m still not out of the woods, the doctor this morning had to remind me with another dose of injections and a 10 day course of strong anti-biotic every 12 hours. But I do feel I’m out of the major woods. I am still sweating like mad, still queasy and weak, but no severe temperature which I am thanking God for. It’s given me some time to catch up on some sleep, which I missed so much. Sleep is a blessing. Man, good health is a blessing. Now I understand why in the movies they always drink to good health. Sorry, meds talking again. Since I have been sleeping all day like a dead man I was told to get up and switch on the laptop and distract myself. So here I am, distracting myself. By talking about what I’ve been through. Great distraction, right? I’ve got a strange sense of humour when I’m ill. I think I’ve written enough, I’m exhausted, it’s amazing the things we take for granted.

I’ll tell you one thing before I go. I felt like those people mentioned in the Qur’an, when they’re in their ship and then a storm hits and they’re all praying extra hard and promising God that they’ll be better believers if He rescues them. And so He answers their prayers and they go back being worse than before. I felt like that yesterday. I was praying so hard, asking God to help me. I don’t pray that hard when I’m healthy, though I should. I felt like such a crap believer, so unworthy of God’s mercy, a part of me thought I had no right to be praying to Him. But I did. Because I believe.

And even though I believed I was a goner last night, a part of me hung on for dear life. The doctor congratulated me for enduring the worse part of a fever like that.

It’s like a mini world up here. All sorts of people from different cultures, religions, countries and generations. We all board while representing something we believe in, or something we don’t. An airplane journey can be like no other journey taken. Strangers become companions, neighbours who are on a similar plight as you are. You notice familiar faces on the plane as those who you had seen earlier before at the terminal and you smile. A stranger looks at you and you make a connection, you find a friend, a travelling companion who can help you forget the perilous journey you have ahead.

Looking out of the window makes you realise how vulnerable you are, how mortal you really are. But I’ve let myself go, from the moment the plane took its inevitable lift off and I closed my eyes, putting all my trust in the Creator.

Everyone brings a little something with them on the airplane, whether it be the luggage they brought or a cultural attitude. It all shows within the hours we have together. And it’s strange that when the journey comes to a safe end, we all part together, alone, once companions, now strangers again, without a second glance, we are all grateful to be back on God’s green earth.

And I’m definitely glad to be back on Egyptian soil. Or so I think until I am hit with the cultural intensity of Egypt, the unorganised chaos that seems to be running quite successfully, the “I come first” attitude which makes courtesy rare. What can I say? I love this land. It’s the system that needs a make-over.