Sickness

Dennis and I made it through North America and Europe with excellent health. Africa, we were warned, would be a different story. We were virtually guaranteed by the leaders of our expedition that we'd get some kind of diarrheal disease during our stay there, and we were prepared with various medications.

Most of the others in the group succumbed before we did. I had a few hours of feeling sick in the desert, but found oral rehydration salts to be a miracle cure. One book I read said that in the Sahara, a person can sweat over 10% of his body weight each day, up to 3 liters per hour. The moisture vaporizes immediately, not even forming liquid perspiration, so it's hard to tell you're dehydrated.

In mid-December, things changed. We both came down with diarrhea, which, though not acute, was to persist virtually unabated for the remaining months in Africa. We first tried fasting, to "starve the bug out" (recommended by the trip leaders), then took the medication we had brought as well as a course of Flagyl. There was no lasting improvement.

Finally, in Bangui, Dennis went to a doctor, who recommended taking a full course of sulfa drugs. Unfortunately, we weren't there long enough for the proper tests to be done and the sulfa didn't help.

I was becoming discouraged, and decided to try the only thing I hadn't done yet, fast completely for 48 hours. After that I was as sick as ever, and a lot thinner. I weighed 118 pounds instead of my normal 135.

I went to a doctor in Kisingani. He did various tests, but again, we would not be around long enough to get good results. The only thing he found wrong was that I had malaria.

Malaria?!!! I couldn't believe it. I was eating again and felt fine, despite the persistent diarrhea.

I told Dennis he'd better get checked. His blood test also showed malarial parasites. We thought back to the blood-filled mosquito we'd found in our tent one morning. She'd slipped in through a tiny rip in the screen and had feasted on us while we slept.

The doctor prescribed heavy doses of chloroquine and another type of sulfa drug for the diarrhea. The worst sickness of the whole trip was caused by the chloroquine. The first day for me was not unpleasant. Sounds were sharp and clear, colors bright and vivid, and I felt bubbly. The rest of the week was terrible. We were both dizzy, had trouble focusing our eyes, and were sick to our stomachs. Whenever we stood up, we suffered from vertigo. I wanted nothing more than to sleep and rest.

We were told that the malaria had been detected in good time, and proper medication would prevent symptoms or relapse. We never did get fevers or other symptoms, but four other people on the truck definitely had it. Two had to spend time in the hospital.

In Nairobi, we were finally in one place long enough to get a proper diagnostic test. We felt a lot better by then.

"We found no pathogens," said the doctor. "You must have a simple case of traveler's diarrhea."

For three months? It seemed unlikely, but who can argue with a clean bill of health?