Socks, sweaters and scarves

So, if you have any sense at all, you may have noticed that I have been blowing up my blog all week, and are beginning to wonder if I ever have to work in this country. By now, my blog should have given you the overall impression that no, I don't work that much in Chile. However, this week my lack of attendance is related to my health. Let me explain.

A few days before I left for vacay, my throat started to hurt, but I tried to shake it off as an allergic reation to the mold that is growing on the walls of my bedroom. (Yes, it is true, sad times. My walls are made of concrete, and they manage to hold Chillan's abundant moisture better than a sponge.) However, my sore throat followed me north, but I refused to give up a day of my carefully planned vacation to sit in a clinic. However, after a week or so on the road, things cleared up nicely, which I attributed to the dry climate I then found myself in.

When I came back to Chillan last weekend, all was well. I went to work on Monday (and had a fabulous day of teaching, by the way), and afterwards it was sunny out so I went for an hour-long walk around the city. As night set in, though, my old ache was back, along with some new ones. My joints were achy in the way they are before the flu hits. And I was dead tired. I thought maybe my vacation was just catching up with me, that I was sore from hauling a giant backpack around for two weeks, who knows why. I declined plans with Stacey around 8 and went to bed early. However, my sleep was haunted by nightmares of my throat closing as I steadily breathed in the mold on my walls, so my sleep was fitfull at best.

The next day I got up with great difficulty, showered, and tried to eat. My eyes teared up as I tried to swallow my bread, so I decided to skip breakfast and just go to work. I usually enjoy the brisk walk to work, but after I had more or less wandered a block and a half away from my house I realized it was not going to happen. I called in sick to my host teacher, tried to figure out where the nearest hospital was, and by 10 a.m. I was at the reception desk at Clinica Chillan.

I had a moment of panic and utter loneliness as I teared up at the reception desk, trying to spit out the sentence, "I feel like my throat is closing," which sounded dramatic, but I wanted to make sure they saw me right away. I apparently had nothing to worry about because I was like the only patient in there. I met with a doctor, who examined me, asked me some questions (I told her about the mold), and then informed me I have bronchitis. Apparently, the draining of my sinuses caused by an allergic reation (hello, mold!) got infected somewhere south of my nose. The cure, by the way, is penicillin, but in the form of a giant shot to the ass, which I had heard horror stories about from two other volunteers that had already been through this mess. I tried to assure myself, thinking, hello, I am diabetic, you can't scare me with a shot! It did hurt, I am not going to lie, but it was not as bad as the time I had to get a numbing shot in my toe so I could get a wound scrubbed out.

Since then, I have had a glimpse of old age, since I am taking like 20 pills a day. My first two days of being sick were terrible. Bronchitis, which I can't ever remember having, hurts like a bitch! But by Thursday, I was feeling better and more than a little full of it. Being shut up in the house has started to wear on my spirit, and as accomodating, helpful, and caring as my host mama and our housekeeper have been, I miss my mommy! When I am sick, my mom is the master of setting up a bedside table filled with various liquids, complete with straws. The best thing about my mom is that she has the good sense to get me all set up and then get the hell out of there and let me sleep! This is not the case in Chile. While I am not necessarily hassled by my family, our housekeeper has these little habits that only annoy me when I spend way too much time in the house (during illness or paro, for example). First of all, in the morning, she stands outside my room and whistles. It's not even a whistle, really, because there is no tone but she definitely blows air in a highly annoying fashion. And she must have the lung capacity of a whale because it is loud! And then, she will stand at the window outside my bedroom door and talk to or yell at our dog! I am like, hello! It's 8 a.m., I am sick and I am trying to sleep! Can I get a little peace and quiet please!

This is all somehow less annoying, though, than the conventional wisdom she impresses on me, which I find totally inappropriate for my situation. For instance, I was trying to tell her and my host mama that I am allergic to the mold in my room, which is what caused the bronchitis, so can we please find a way to clean it? (I only asked for help because I need to borrow the portable heater to dry the walls, otherwise I would have just done it myself.) Then they launch into some tangent about how the heaters on buses spread infections and make people stuffed up, and that's probably where I got the infection since I was on so many buses over vacation. They completely ignored my comments about the mold, and if I had more energy and wasn't feeling like garbage, I probably would have exploded. Every day of my illness, by the way, Zuni has been hounding me to dress warmly. Every time I am not feeling well, she believes it is because sometimes I don't like to wear socks in the house. (This, by the way, is because I have sweaty feet and if they are always in socks, I get athlete's foot. I know, gross!) One day, I came out of my bedroom in the middle of a nap to go to the bathroom without anything of my feet and she literally reeled back, clutching her breast, and gasped. Because I had just woken up and was crabby, I ignored the whole incident. But then the other day, I was wearing a t-shirt in the house without a sweater and she commented again about how I would never get better without a sweater on. I told her I was too hot (because I was, for once!) and that I would put on a sweater when I got cold. She just shook her head at me, like, crazy American girl! The most hilarious moment, though, was when she told me I should be wearing a scarf at all times to protect my throat from the cold. I wanted to scream, "It is an infection! There are bacteria in my body! It has nothing to do with whether or not I am wearing a scarf!"

I don't want to make it sound like, "Wah wah, I have people that care about me, and they want to help, and I hate it." This is just one instance in which it is trying to be 25 years old and living with a family that does everything for you. I love them and all their quirks. When I am sick, though, I want to be left the hell alone, not constantly hassled about my sartorial choices.

On the other hand, my current situation has only increased my love for Felipe. First of all, he fixed my ipod! I don't know what he did because he doesn't even have itunes, but he plugged it into his computer and it sprang back to life! He came home yesterday and I told him I was going crazy because I had been in the house for three whole days with Zuni and his mother, and he just laughed and said, "I understand you." Which I appreciated. Also, I informed him of the mold situation and my attendant allergies, and he came in, wiped the mold away with an old rag, and said that tomorrow we will bring the heater in and rearrange the room so the walls will dry. I told him everything in my life is better when he is around, and I meant it. I mean, he fixed my ipod!

Actually, this whole episode of getting sick and getting it handled made me kind of pleased with my Spanish. I was able to communicate what was wrong with me and get the appropriate information, and I only had to ask for clarification a couple times. Even though I felt awful, I was kind of smiling to myself as I left the clinic on Tuesday.

So, they gave me licensia for a five days, which means I am supposed to stay in bed. Obviously, it also means no English classes. Pucha! Especially since in my last couple weeks of teaching, I feel I have finally hit my stride. More on that later.