This should have been a post full of happiness and optimism. It could have touched on the enlightening experience of seeing a sports physiotherapist and the advice and exercises I was given, or it could have reflected on my progress with the special exercise programme for strengthening the muscles of walking in preparation for the challenge developed specifically for me by my talented friend Claire. I would have written about how my foot has healed, and perhaps bragged a little about the 30 miler that I managed the other day (and perhaps reflected that while 62 330 steps, 47.3km, 2354 calories and 170.5 grams of fat all in one go is certainly progress, the terrifying fact remains that it is only half of the full challenge distance – quite a sobering thought). I could have written about how I had a whole week off over Easter and was really intending to ramp up the training – try to get comfortable at 30 miles, maybe even push up to 40 miles, and remind everyone that while I am overwhelmed by all the support I’ve received this far, I’m still quite a long way off my fundraising target and would appreciate all the help I can get.
But that isn’t what this post is about, because just before Easter this happened…
I was admitted to hospital as an emergency with fever, vomiting and headache, feeling worse than I have ever felt in my life. After a barrage of tests, I was diagnosed with malaria – more than 6 months after returning from Ghana! Malaria is an infectious disease caused by a parasite that is transmitted through mosquito bites, specifically anopheles mosquitoes, which are found only in tropical areas. I stress this point for the peace of mind of those kind friends and family of mine who visited me in hospital – without the tropical mosquito vectors, there isn’t a risk of transmission. You can sleep easy in your beds tonight.
The diagnosis confirmed, I was started on quinine, also known as the “tonic” bit of “gin and..” though the doctor informed me that I would need to drink 20 litres of tonic to get the equivalent of my daily quinine dose. Even for a G&T fan like myself, this seemed a challenge too far, and I wasn’t convinced that the corresponding helpings of gin would help the headache and vomiting situation either. So I stayed in hospital for 5 days, ears ringing and muffled (a side-effect of the quinine), barred from leaving my room due to infection control purposes and confined to the use of a commode (shudder), sleep deprived and feeling all in all pretty sorry for myself. The staff were all fantastic however, and I felt very well cared for. I was touched also by the love and concern I was shown by so many friends and family who kept me well distracted with calls, texts and visits, which meant I never felt like I was going through it alone.
The whole experience was extremely surreal and I think I’m still chewing over and processing what really happened. I will write more about it in due course. As for now, I am home with my family, recovering well although still feeling very tired and worn out. I am currently taking medication to try to kill the dormant parasites living in my liver, hopefully reducing my chance of having a relapse.
Needless to say, training has been utterly de-railed. At this point I simply don’t know whether or not I will be able to complete the challenge, and I won’t know until I am well enough to start training again and can start to suss out how much of a hit my fitness has taken. I look on the bright side – that 30 miler 2 weeks ago was in the early stages of my infection, before I really knew I was sick, yet I was probably anaemic at the time and managed the walk just fine. If I can walk 30 miles while my blood is on the weak side, surely I’ll be even stronger with the malaria gone and industrial quantities of steak consumed to build me up again? Only time will tell, but I choose to remain hopeful.
Where's Viv? 