So, a few hours ago we called City Laboratories (Motto: "Insist on knowing your medical problems.") for our malaria and typhoid test results -- the ones I almost didn't have done because I didn't like the look of the big sharp needle. The woman on the phone asked me twice if I wanted results over the phone and then said that I have a co-infection of typhoid and malaria, but that Nate just has typhoid. I made her repeat it, then repeated it and had her confirm it. After a moment or two of disbelief (typhoid? really? I feel okay, I'm just sleeping a lot), we hopped in the car to pick up the results and grab our meds.
Turns out I have "few" malaria again -- the "malaria" option circled under hematology with "few" scribbled beside it. Then, under "WIDAL TEST," which is for typhoid, the health worker wrote for both Nate and I, "Strongly Reactive." It's kind of exciting to be strongly reactive, until I remind myself it's for typhoid.
My Facebook updates since I broke the news (I called my parents and sister first: we have a family disclosure policy on illnesses) warn of dire experimental cocktails and mistreatments. I'm taking the standard Cipro (made by a pharmacy in Germany, no generics for me thank you) for the typhoid and Coartam (made by Novartis, thank you also) for the "few" malaria. No artesenate and amodiaquine, thank you -- my friend just finished that treatment only to have heart palpitations and have to get an ECG in a Liberian hospital. No, I'm putting my very expensive MPH to work and we're doing things by the book, thank you Hopkins.
You may notice that I sound like I'm feeling fine. As I tried to assure my father over a rather bad connection as we drove through the din of Newport Street and Monrovia's biggest mosque, I am feeling fine. I'm tired and sleep a lot, but dry season means wonderfully dry heat, so that's supposed to happen a little. We're off to Robertsport tomorrow for a Women's Sewing Coop meeting and "few" surfing. I swear I'll take it easy, but the ocean is good for the soul.