I rarely get sick, so when I do, my body doesn't know how to deal with it.
I'm glad to say that I felt fine during my kayak and horseback riding trips yesterday, but as soon as I got back to San Lucas, I knew that something was wrong. I ended up calling it an early night and going to bed by 9pm.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, I was running a high fever. I was so dehydrated that my tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth. I was nauseous, but I couldn't bring myself to vomit. I was curled up under several layers but still shivering and producing night sweats.
"What if I feel like this tomorrow?" I thought to myself. "There's no way I can travel feeling like this. Will I be forced to stay in Guatemala until I recover? Do I need to call the airline company and postpone my return? How would I pay for healthcare in a foreign country?"
As I lay in bed last night, I was seconds away from calling a tuk-tuk to be taken to the clinic so I could get IV fluids and ondansetron. I don't recall every being so uncomfortable in my entire life. Luckily I feel better this morning, but I pray that the fever doesn't return tonight. I'm really not in the mood to be tested for malaria when I get back.
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