Under the weather in Spain
By: Amanda Reid, Columnist
There are some parts of the trip here that I would gleefully trade away for a day or two at home, but none as much as Oct. 27-28.
Oct. 27 began as a completely normal day, but that’s how days are supposed to begin before all hell breaks loose.
I returned home after a day of midterm exams and took a nap. When I woke up, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I knew I was sick, but I had to finish reading a book for one of my classes and write a paper on it.
This, I knew, was not a feat I could accomplish under heavy doses of medication.
Therefore, I decided to push through and finish the paper before I fell asleep.
The next morning was even worse. I woke up, tried to force down some breakfast, and in my feverish stupor I attempted to go to school.
Thankfully, my host mom was awake and able to tell me to go back to bed. I slept until four that evening before waking up and realizing I needed antibiotics and badly.
I called my study abroad office and they set up an appointment for me that I needed to leave for almost immediately. Stupid, fever-infested me figured I could handle walking to the metro and then finding the hospital.
After I got off the metro to switch lines, I had to sit down and put my head between my knees to avoid passing out in front of a bunch of random strangers halfway to my destination.
I then regained strength and vision and was able to gingerly pick my way to the next line I needed to be on.
At this point, all I could do was pray.
I finally got off at the metro stop and a five-minute walk to the hospital ended up taking 20 minutes because I got so turned around.
I collapsed into a chair in the international office, and when I heard the sweet sound of the English language, I knew I had made it. The first doctor immediately diagnosed me with strep throat and sent me off to get meds. Little did I know, this was only the beginning.
I woke up the next morning running a fever of 103.
I took a second dose of meds and fell back asleep only to wake up again still running a high fever of 101.
Realizing the meds I was taking were not strong enough, back to the hospital I went.
This time I got to see a general doctor instead of one who spoke English.
The second doctor, now affectionately known as my hero, immediately gave me a shot because my tonsils were so swollen, and I had trouble breathing so he prescribed me the good stuff.
Now taking three different types of medication, I finally felt back to my old self, although those two days were a blur of taking whatever medicine I was given, drinking something, and going back to sleep.
Moral of the story: if ever sick abroad, take a taxi to the hospital.
One thought on “Under the weather in Spain”
We hope you feel better soon.
Thank you for your continued writing about your experiences abroad. It’s great that you share your experiences with people who may never get to see Spain or other foreign countries. Hopefully it will make us realize that is much more to the world than our own country and people.
It’s always good to be reminded to think globally.