You WISH you only had Malaria!

The other week, I was with two other volunteers in a part of the country where you travel for 12 hours-- part of it through windy, mountainous roads-- to reach Kampala. Needless to say, we did not want to reach Kampala. Until, that is, a friend kept getting progressively ill. First, she was burping and complainging of stomach pain-- I smelled the burps and decided against Ghiardia (Most of us are INTIMATELY acquainted with the smell). So we continued; then she started laying on the floor in pain and vomiting. Another volunteer and I went to get groceries, only to find her angry at us because of the pain she was in. At this point, we were on standfast (not allowed to travel because of riots in Kampala)and the patient kept repeating that she could not travel due to pain.
By then, it was a very dark 7pm; our midnight, and we had to do something. The helpful nurse 12 hours away suggested that we bring her to a local hospital where we could test for Malaria. Not hard in a booming tourist town; right? Four hours, a hospital, two clinics, and one private Muzungu doctor later-- no one was able to do the tests. The hospital staff, though neatly dressed, could not locate their own reception area, let alone a doctor. The clinics both lacked lab services and tests; although one contained a kindly old German speaking doctor (with very unsterile equipment). Finally, we found the number of an expat Dutch doctor and asked him to help us. His response-- I am a surgeon, I don't do that! was less than encouraging. Finally we found a Scottish anthropologist (doctor of a different type) that had suffered from Malaria so many times that he had rapid test kits (no pcv's don't have them-- thank Washington's budget cuts for that!). The patient was negative, and I mean in more ways than one! Despite further concern's about Washington's budget and the fact that we weren't supposed to travel, the other healthy volunteer and I decided that, despite the teargas, doctors in Kampala would be better able to help our freind.
In true 007 style, therefore, we bundled her in the back of a private hire, with the phone number of the peace corps driver. They had to meet in passing somewhere along that 12 hour journey-- without a disclosed location-- remember we are not supposed to move because of protests rocking the capital! She reached Kampala safely and, thankfully, the muzungu doctor there was a bit more helpful (and sterile) in pronouncing----- appendicitis! Good thing we did not delay any more. After an incredibly invasive surgery (no lasers here, guys), she is alive; but it was close. If she was a Ugandan, would she have made it? Sorry to say, but this bright, wonderful young lady, if a Ugandan would probably not be with us and when a muzungu like me would have asked why she died, the reply would have been, "She was sick for a while, probably Malaria, or the Disease (AIDS)." Just another example of WHY life expectancy is 20 yrs less here than in the US.