I'm pretty sure I've had parasites since December. What, with living in the campo and drinking tap water which is known to have parasitic treasure in it from time to time (water even the man in charge of the water for the pueblo won't drink). It was bound to happen. And, as with most things, I thought, "If I ignore it, maybe it will go away!"
Unfortunately, two things I know for certain that do not work that way are parasites and DUI charges.
Learning the hard way is the only way to go about it.
Last weekend I was at the beach with friends, and we got to talking about the little family of parasites I'm hosting in my belly. They insisted if I don't go to the doctor, I will die. I said I would go and thought nothing more about it. Until I saw that episode of Dr. House (I think it may just be called House in the US). Some girl had a tapeworm and IT GOT INTO HER FREAKING BRAIN. I do not want brain worms. I still owe $45,000 on that fine piece of machinery. No need letting little worms burrow tiny little holes in it, you know?
Sadly, I am currently broke as shit. Luckily, I have friends who love me and, more importantly, who have doctors for fathers. So, last Friday, my friend took me to his dad's house. His father, who runs his office out of the house, is very old. In the states, when I go to a doctor, I expect him to be fit and sassy and full of modern wisdom. The words "doctor," "scary," and "hero" are all intertwined in my brain and are inseparable words.
Here, doctor and scary seem to fit together more.
I want a doctor like Dr. House. Or at least like Dr. Cox on Scrubs.
I went to El Doctor's house, sat at the kitchen table, and watched him give himself an insulin shot in his belly. Then my friend walked me back to the office, and El Doctor came back with his walker, moving very slowly, then sat down and asked me why I think I have parasites.
Don't worry, I will not describe my symptoms to you because I am a lady (sometimes) and it is gross. He gave me two prescriptions. One to poop in a cup tinier than my fist and another for some pills to take to kill the parasites and their eggs.
So, my friend and I went to the pharmacy to get my pills and then to the laboratory to pay for the analysis and pick up my cup.
Being a girl, I had never pooped before, let alone in a cup! The whole experience seemed rather intimidating at first. But it was surprisingly simple! Let's just hope I don't have to do it again.
Armed with my cup, I came home to prepare myself for the undertaking of grossness. I think I have a cultural grossed-outedness to feces. People here don't seem to think pooping in a cup is a terribly big deal, nor is it something worth talking about.
So, I went to the bathroom, did my duty, and went to the lab to drop off my sample. I'm supposed to get my results on Tuesday.
Friday night, I decided to take my little guests out for some farewell cocktails. I like to imagine they're like little sea monkeys of my innards. We went to Nejapa on Carreterra sur, then over to El Caramanchel in Bolonia. We drank rum and beer and danced and were merry.
I probably should have either drank less or waited to start taking my parasite medicines. I was so sick all day yesterday, I thought I was going to die. I haven't yet, though. Although I still feel like rubbish.
I have 8 pills to take over the course of three days, two for amoeba and 6 for worms. The doctor won't know which it is until we get the results, but he figured that was no reason not to begin treating me. So, I am currently taking bets.
My money is on worms, Misty thinks it's an amoeba. What do y'all think? All I know for sure is that I can't wait until they are gone.