Another Trip To The Doctor

High Fever. Body Aches. Sweating. Tired. Headaches. Dizziness. Nausea.
All classic symptoms of the flu. Apparently, also all classic symptoms as Malaria.

"The general symptoms include: flu-like symptoms"

Having never actually had Malaria before, but my fair share of flu's, I was all but convinced that what I was suffering from was a simple bout of Influenza. However, at the guest house there was growing concern from people who had resided in East Africa for quite some time that lurking under the guise of a common flu was really Malaria.

This concern resulted in a trip to the doctor, which, truth be told, by the time the moment arrived I was more or less ready to go. (If you know me, that is a big enough deal since I will wait [as my mom can attest to] until I am doubled over in pain before conceding to go). After several nights of hardly sleeping and waking up before dawn I was more than ready to be done with whatever it was that I had.

Informed I would be driven to the hospital after Saturday pancake breakfast I was slightly apprehensive about going, but more than ready to be healthy. Arriving at the King Faisal Hospital in Kigali, I was pleasantly surprised by the exterior of the building, but not as impressed with the lack of direction given once inside. Directed from the main desk downstairs to the Emergency area it once again became unclear as to where we were supposed to go and what we were supposed to do. Walking in, I made way down the hallway and into the corridor that was the receiving area for 'Emergency Care'. Stopping in at the reception desk we were handed forms to complete to open accounts at the clinic, much of which we were forced to leave blank as we are not from Rwanda.

Returning to wait in the corridor, I was quickly ushered in to the 'triage' room where the nurse gave me the standard barrage of questions. However, working with the metric system I had very few accurate answers and engaged in a small math lesson working on conversion of lbs to kgs, and inches to centimeters. Trying to make me more comfortable with the entire process, the nurse sought to engage me in small talk, which was less than eventful.

Finally finished, I was escorted to a stark room and sat on a hospital bed waiting for the doctor to arrive as the blue curtain was pulled around for additional privacy. In the bed next to me I could hear a woman talking in kinyarwanda with the doctor and nurse, sounding quite well for someone stuck in the hospital. I sat sideways awkwardly on the bed with feet dangling looking over the paperwork the nurse had just filled out. When the doctor finally arrived, he asked all the same questions and then informed me that he didn't think I had Malaria, but would order me a test anyways. Grateful to see the end in sight, I waited patiently behind the blue curtain for someone to come and draw my blood.

The doctor returned a moment later apologizing for not informing me that I needed to go to the lab. Giving me very confusing directions, I wound my way out of Emergency and up the stairs to what I thought was the "lab". It wasn't. Instead some very nice lady working at the hospital directed me to the "last door at the end of the walkway." Making my way down the outdoor walkway, I arrived at the final door which was already open as though they had been expecting me. Deserted and silent I approached the man behind the counter and hand him my papers. Saying nothing he takes then and I sit, waiting. A while later the man signals me back to a little cubical with two chairs and everything necessary to carry out the task. Seeking to explain my history of fainting when getting blood drawn, I proceed to ask if there is somewhere I can lay down. After two attempts to make him understand my point, I gave up and simply prayed that I would stay upright because then we really would have an emergency on our hands. Thankfully I survived the experience even though it was one of the most painful and I walked away feeling worse than when I went in.

Making my way back through the maze that is most hospitals, I returned to the waiting area in the Emergency section evermore convinced I was suffering from Influenza. Not willing to wait the hour plus that we were informed the results would take, it was asked if I could just call in to receive them. A concept completely foreign to nearly every attendant we spoke with, it was finally determined that it would be an acceptable course of action. Paying Mzungu prices for mzungu service, we were actually moved along fairly quickly by African standards. Perhaps the most amusing part of my entire time there was the distinction my friend and I were given on all pieces of our paperwork: "Patient Type: Casualty". Obviously meaning something very different to them then to us I nearly burst out laughing when I originally came across it. I am not sure if i am 100% okay with being considered a "Casualty" upon entrance.

After all that the test results came back negative and as suspected I simply have a very severe case of the Flu.
And I have decided that I greatly prefer the clinic in Kampala to the one here in Kigali