Ramblings of a sick person

So, bad news: I’m sick, again. Same as last time— slight fever, body chills, but luckily… no diarrhea! The reaction that I’m getting from people when I tell them I’m sick is definitely reflective of the unique place I’m living— half Africa, half giant floating container box. I told an African day worker that I’m feeling sick, and he frowned and asked, “Is it malaria?” But when I tell other crew members that I’m sick, they automatically assume its diarrhea. With 400 people living in a contained environment, illnesses tend to go around quite rapidly, and bouts of a 24 hour vomiting/diarrhea bug have been going around the ship recently. In any case, I’ve been cooped up in my cabin all day yesterday in order to keep whatever I have to myself. I slept most of the day, ate some PBJs, and checked out some Laura Ingalls Wilder books from the library, as they always make me feel better. I have to say, what a crappy way to spend my two days off. Pardon the pun.

In other news, my brother let me know by email that I got some mail back home: a letter from school, requesting my lab coat size for the fall, and a packet from the feds about financial aid. Baah. Objectively I know that life is still going on without me, but gets difficult to visualize time ahead when you get so caught up in the daily grind that is Mercy Ships. For one, I have no idea what’s going on in the real world—normally I’m a bit obsessive about keeping up on my news, but here? Not so much. For another, I have a ton of things to do when I get back home. My lease starts in July. I have to pack and move all my stuff to Philly. Buy furniture. I still have to plan for the teen department of a week-long camp in August that I somehow agreed to coordinate way back in November. I have ten thousand paperwork things for school I need to get done, including financial aid. I’ve been pushing everything to the back of my mind for the last couple of weeks— because really, what’s the point in worrying when you can’t do anything about it— but those financial aid papers really got to me for some reason. It really shouldn't, I know college debt is a fact of life, but I’m going to be about three hundred thousand dollars in debt when I come out of dental school— at this point, I can’t even fathom that much money, yet I have to sign loan papers soon that bind me to pay that back (plus interest) 30 years from now. You know, when I’m old and wrinkled and have loads of money to spare (ie, never).

Being in Africa… it definitely makes you marvel, in a very odd, very sad way, about how differently we all live. I have never once been asked if I have malaria in the state, but malaria is still a constant reality here. And though I joke about not being able to pay back my loans, I know objectively that I will somehow be able to, because I’ll have the capability to make that much money when I graduate. That’s the way the Western world works. Here, half the Togolese population lives on less than $1.25 per day. To put it in perspective, that’s how much I spend on a cup of coffee. Jarring, to say the least.

Hm. So nothing I say at the end of this post will tie any of that together. Diarrhea, dental school, GNI? Even I can't do that. Which is why this post is aptly titled, "Ramblings," and not "Coherent and conclusively laid out thoughts". Because clearly, the latter does not describe me today.

I hope my lab coat fits me-- I picked the smallest size, but I may not be all that small when I return from Africa because of all the food I eat here on the ship.(Another paradox. This is probably the only place in West Africa where you can go back home fatter, and whiter, than when you first came). That'd be rather embarrassing, to be at your white coat ceremony where your white coat doesn't.. you know, actually fit you. Good way to start the school year.