It didn't happen overnight…or did it? As it turns out, India is pretty stinkin' hot. Not only is sweating profusely all day a thing, but also sweating profusely throughout the night (even with ceiling fans – don't get me wrong, I praise God for them EVERY day; they just don't keep you from sweating!). I could sense dehydration setting in pretty soon after arriving in India, but it was incredibly difficult to replenish fluids. It seemed as though I just couldn't drink enough – no amount of electrolytes seemed sufficient. My body was at what I'd call an "I'm dehydrated, but still functional" state.
And then it happened… I got "the motions". This, my friends, is how Indians refer to diarrhea, and unfortunately, it lasted 4 days. The first day was the worst – I don't think I'm exaggerating when I write that I quite possibly used the restroom more in that ONE day than my entire month in Nepal. Each day after that got a little bit better, but I had to stay back from ministry (due to not feeling well, but even more so because you never know what the bathroom situation in the villages will look like – imagine having "the motions" in an open field or in the bushes where everyone else goes #2. *Yikes! Just had a flashback of a time when……
ANYWAY, back to the story. So yes, I stayed back from ministry and spent my time as a sweaty mess passed out on my sleeping pad, drinking water, and sprinting to the bathroom. I was lonely, felt terrible, was missing my team, and was sad to miss ministry. "Lord," I would cry, "WHY would you call me to India just to have me sick on a mat, and WHY can't I catch a break?!" (you might recall that Nepal was a rough month physically). After throwing an adult tantrum, my prayer changed to an exhausted whisper, "Lord, what is your plan in this? What are you trying to teach me?" By the time day 4 rolled around, I was over it (being sick that is). I was determined to go to ministry, so I put on my Punjabi and even did my hair. What I realized was that whenever I wasn't lying down, I was incredibly lightheaded and dizzy, needing to grasp a wall to hold me up. As my team was about to leave, I broke down in tears – I knew something was wrong and that I needed to get to a doctor, but I was also at my limit for being sick. Like a child, I cried out to my Father, "THIS ISN'T FAIR!" To this He replied by covering me with peace.
That evening, I went to the hospital and received an intravenous shot and a couple electrolyte-infused apple juice boxes. The next morning, however, I still felt terrible. When I returned to the hospital, they told me I was severely dehydrated and hooked me up to an IV for 3 bags of fluids (this was a pretty traumatic experience for me). They then sent me home and said to return in the morning if I still felt weak. That 6th morning was awful. I woke up many times throughout the night with a dry mouth and throat, drinking almost 3L of fluids. Having not urinated even after the IV treatment and all the additional fluids, I knew I was still dehydrated, SO I returned to the hospital for the third day in a row and received 2 more bags of fluid via IV, drank a 2L bottle of water, and had blood drawn and a urine test (all results were normal, praise The Lord!). My hands were sore and bruised, and at one point, my blood began to clot by the IV opening, so the nurse has to rub it out (which totally made me quiver with pain, bringing tears to my eyes). I was definitely feeling defeated. But then, just as in Nepal, Matthew 16:24 began resonating in my heart:
Then Jesus told His disciples, 'If anyone would come after
me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.'
I was reminded that when I accepted the call to the WR, I made a pact with God to let go of all my comforts and to dive into whatever would come my way on this journey, trusting Him to care for me. And well, my prayer when I left the States was that God would give me a true sense of what life in developing countries is like, to be able to better empathize with the beautiful people I would meet. I know now that every physical ailment and every clinic/hospital visit has been God answering that prayer and holding me to my word to trust him no matter the discomfort. I've learned:
– that when I'm sick, God is not far off, but holding me close
– what it is like to not have a Walgreens on every corner
– what it is like to be sick without the comforts of a comfy bed, a warm shower, a/c, hot tea, DVRed "Friends" to watch while in bed, saltine crackers, and someone to rub my back
– how difficult it is for a body to heal when it is malnourished
– what medical facilities look like and what technology they do or do not have available
– how ridiculously expensive it is to get treated in the US – I only paid $50 for 3 walk-in visits, lab work, 2 IV treatments, a shot, and a hospital bed for 2 days with a/c. In America, I'd be in debt.
– that being sick gives me an opportunity to get to know my incredible hosts in a way I might not have otherwise, which has been such a blessing
Though I VERY MUCH pray this upcoming month in Thailand will be a healthy one, I know that even if I fall ill, God's going to take care of me. He's got my back, and He's always working good out of seemingly crappy circumstances. May you praise Him for who He is and how He cares for His children, for how He has watched over and provided healing for me. More importantly, please pray for those living in developing countries, and all who are in need in this big world- that the Spirit would fill these places, change hearts for His kingdom, and bring real comfort and providence to the poor, sick, and needy. We are blessed – spoiled – to have the luxuries of life in America, and yes, a bed and running water ARE luxuries. Anything above that, well those are God's cherries on top 🙂
Love you.
