My biggest fear coming on the race was getting sick. Especially in Africa.
Well, I got sick in Africa.
I’ll start with our food situation. It was not great, but I wasn’t upset about it. We basically had a choice between canned pineapple, canned tuna, crackers, fig bars, ramen, peanuts, and whatever was available at the restaurant down the street. We ate there mostly every day, and only got adventurous when we went with someone who could help us order. Otherwise we would stick to the basics like eggs, rice, and noodles. It was really fine for me, but eating the same thing everyday gets more difficult as time passes.
It was only a few days before we were leaving. We went to the restaurant and I branched out and ordered a mixed salad, something my other teammate had ordered multiple times which is why I thought it was safe. A few hours later the pain in my stomach started. I’ve had my share of stomach pain but this was completely different than anything I’ve ever experienced. It was so bad that I asked to go to the hospital. My team knew it was serious when I made this request, because I’m the last person to want OR feel the need to see a doctor for anything.
The clinic we went to was absolutely ridiculous. Even the medical tents we set up on my mission trip to Mexico looked more kept than this place. On top of that, communication was nearly impossible, and no one was giving me any kind of direction. At this point I had a fever and felt cold even though it was still very hot out. They gave me a fever reducer and I went back to our place and tried to eat pineapple and ramen because thats all we had. At 12:30am is when the horror started and lets just say it was the absolute worst night, and I never want to relive it.
At 6 in the morning we tried to go to the clinic, but we had to wait 2 hours. Once we made it they gave me antibiotics, and I stayed in bed the whole day. I still couldn’t eat, and I still didn’t know what had been injected in me, which was scary and very difficult for me. I slept a little better that night, but still hadn’t recovered.
The next day was probably the worst. Beyond the pain I was in, and beyond how terrible I felt physically, I think the most difficult part was the lack of communication, the language barrier, and the huge cultural differences. For example, they didn’t tell me to go back the next morning but then questioned me when they found out I didn’t go. They urged and urged me to keep coming out of my room and eat when I literally couldn’t. It was all around overwhelming. This went on all day, different people asking me questions and they were so confused about why I was not eating their greasy food.
I got to my breaking point that night. It was our last night in Awash. I was brought back to the clinic. I was given an IV, more butt shots, more injections. I was so tired from little sleep and no food. The communication was still overwhelming, and this time even more frustrating than before. I was just trying to figure to what they were giving me, but it always takes way longer to get a point across. I was done.
I turned over and prayed that God would just make it stop. Then, I thought of Job. I read Job this month and remembered his pain. I realized that I came into Africa with a lot of confidence already. Many other racers have said they’ve felt unsafe at certain times. I have never once felt unsafe, only uncomfortable or overwhelmed. I realize now that I never feel unsafe in general, even in situations that could definitely been seen that way. I don’t really know why, I’ve just always been that way. I realized that even though I don’t have these fears, it doesn’t make these fears less valid for others. Being in that clinic receiving multiple injections and not being able to communicate was the breaking point for me, and for the first time on the race my safety was compromised. I was humbled.
Good news, I made it to Addis, I’m finished my antibiotics today, which were injections, and I’m feeling much better. That makes a total of 9 different injections in the course of one week. I don’t recommend. I ended up having food poisoning. They told me I had “many bacteria.” I’m finally able to eat, I’ve regained my energy, and I’m on the uphill. I will never eat a mixed salad again as long as I’m in Africa, and it may be awhile before I have canned pineapple and ramen again too.
Please pray for health for the remainder of my race for me, my team, and my squad!
Also pray for safe travels as we fly to Rwanda tomorrow!
Thanks for reading, God bless.
