Chikungunya

I got it. To save you the time of looking it up this nasty virus, let me tell you the basics.  It’s essentially dengue fever, but a little less intense.  In fact, for the first 4 days, they actually can’t tell the difference, even when they take your blood.  The only way they know it’s chikungunya is if it goes away in under 5-7 days.  If it lasts longer then it’s probably dengue and will finally show up in the bloodwork.

Chikungunya is ravaging Colombia right now.  Several Peace Corps members have already suffered through it.  Almost everyone you talk to in Tubará has had it.  The second I moved here I was essentially playing the waiting game; I knew it would strike I just didn’t know when.  And then it hit me after less than two weeks after moving.  Chikungunya is transmitted through mosquitos, like dengue or malaria.  If you recall from an earlier posting, my blood seems to be particularly sweet to mosquitos and even though I was getting bit a lot less, they still favored me over the Colombians, or even other gringos.

It affects everyone differently, so I can only tell you my experience.  And I got hit with it hard.  Everyone had told me that it was painful, but ultimately not that bad.  My experience was intense and swift.  Here’s how it went down.

Thursday 5 PM: I got off the bus after a particularly awkward, long ride.  I was jammed onto the awful third seat in the very back, meaning there was nothing in front of me except a looooong aisle crammed full of people and every time the bus jerked or braked (i.e. every few seconds) I was thrown forward and had to brace myself with my feet and knees because my hands were full of my grocery bags.  I hobbled off the bus after a rather awful hour and as I was walking to my house my knee was feeling really tight and the joints hurt.  I thought maybe the bus ride had agitated an old soccer injury from two months ago (i.e. I didn’t even have the ball in my possession and stepped with my leg locked and had to limp around for a few days).  I used the walk to stretch it out and by the time I got home I forgot all about it.

Thursday 10 PM: I was mopping all the floors with water and a little bleach.  I had completed the entire downstairs and was just finishing up my room when I could feel my skin break out in a rash. In fact, I was able to literally watch little red dots appear on my arms, legs, stomach, and chest.  It was like watching an army of angry red ants march across my skin.  And even weirder, to me, was the fact that after sweeping and mopping a total of four rooms I was absolutely EXHAUSTED.  I was sweating and feeling a tightness in my chest that was making me panic a little.  I’m in better shape than I’ve been in a while, and yet here I was, clutching my chest and heaving after mopping.  I made a mental note to start working out a little harder because I will be DAMNED if I die from a heart attack from MOPPING at the ripe old age of 22.  I went to jump in the shower to wash off whatever mixture of bleach and sweat was making me break out into a rash and of course the water wasn’t working.  Defeated, I sat in front of my fan for a few minutes and texted my friend “Ugh I think I’ve got the chik.”

Friday 3 AM: In a state of half-consciousness, I realized my joints were aching and I had been tossing and turning for hours.  It was like a combination of the pain you get from an intense workout and the soreness of all of your muscles atrophying after you haven’t worked out for a week or so.  I made a mental note that I definitely had chikungunya and I also remember making a note that I would not cancel the party I had planned for later that day and I would not cancel the brunch and tour I had planned for my friend’s family the following day.  I fell back asleep making mental calculations of when I should start cooking and what I still needed to buy at the tienda.  I vaguely remember muttering “I might have chikungunya but chikungunya sure as hell doesn’t have ME.”

Friday 6 AM: I woke up crying.  Just absolutely sobbing.  I don’t think I’ve ever woken up crying before and I pray that it never happens again.  I was confused and in a lot of pain.  And I couldn’t get up.  My mattress right now is on the floor.  It took me maybe 15 minutes to finally get to a standing position. Why did I get out of bed at all? 1) I had to pee.  2) Kitten had to pee. I needed to take her downstairs and outside. 3) I needed to tell my neighbor, who is also a teacher, that I couldn’t make it to the meeting today (planning for the upcoming school year).  I figured that I could make one trip downstairs to let Kitten out and to have a conversation with my neighbor, since we share a backyard.

But before I got to any of that I needed to get out of bed.  I rolled over from where I was laying on my back (still crying), and tried to see if I could put pressure on my wrists, knees, or ankles.  Chikungunya affects the joints, making them swollen and essentially unusable.  I tried to get on my hands and knees and literally screamed (still crying).  I wouldn’t be able to put enough pressure on ANY of my joints to get up, let alone make it downstairs.  I reasoned it was going to hurt no matter what, and I just needed to take the plunge.  I also realized I needed something to pull myself up off the floor.  And the closest thing that I could use was the sink in the bathroom.  Two bedrooms and a hallway away.  Mentally cursing myself for having the great fortune of living in a huge, two-story apartment alone, I rolled off the bed and onto my hands and knees and started crawling and crying to the bathroom.  I might add that having a playful, two-month-old kitten in this circumstance was the absolute worst because I couldn’t use any effort to swat her away; I just had to crawl and cry and let her playfully bite at my hands and my feet and try to climb my hair swinging back and forth.  I finally arrived at the bathroom, grasped the sink, and pulled myself up (still crying and making a lot of noises). The worst part was, once I was finally standing, holding the sink, I raised my gaze into the mirror and saw what I hope is the absolute ugliest that I will ever look.  Red-faced from crying, red-faced from the rash, red-faced from a dissipating sunburn, disheveled from tossing and turning all night, and lip curled from all the ugly crying (because it wasn’t like, Disney princess crying… it was just all out snotty-nosed, gasping, heaving crying).  I’m not a particularly vain person (I tell myself) but that sight in the mirror did NOT make my morning any better.

Anyway, I finally make it down the stairs (it involved a lot of crying and dramatic grasping at banisters and walls) and open the back door to let Kitten (still haven’t chosen a name) out.  And I realized at that moment that my neighbor was not yet awake. And probably wouldn’t be for another 30 minutes or so.  And that realization set off a fresh round of tears because the idea of getting out of bed again and back down those stairs was literally inconceivable.  And it was so important that I talk to her in person because this was the last day of teacher meetings before the kids arrived and all the teachers had been tasked with bringing one item to the meeting and then we were all going to make the traditional soup, Sancocho, together to signify unity and coming together and all those wonderful things.  I was supposed to bring the spoons and bowls and I had them all sitting in a little pile by the front door.  I told myself I would come back down in an hour and that it would be easier because I knew what I was up against. Wrong.  I hobbled back upstairs, texted everyone that the party was off, and called Gene, another volunteer, who I knew would be up and who had also had chikungunya.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Hey Gene!” *keep it casual, keep it light, be chill, don’t cry*

Gene: “Hey how are you?”

Me: “Ohhhh not super great. I woke up with chikungunya. Ummm unfortunately can’t have the party, just wanted to let you know…” and then I burst into tears, tried to crack a joke, cried through it, and tried to tell him, really, no I’m fine, I’m just being silly.

Gene, who lives about 15 km away in a different pueblo, hopped on the next bus and was there in under an hour, with jello and gatorade.

Most of my day was spent in various states of unconsciousness.  I lay in bed upstairs except for twice when I tried to walk downstairs.  I had no appetite but jello seemed nice and soothing.  I ate a whole two spoonfuls before deciding I had overexerted myself and had to hobble back upstairs.  Once, I literally called Gene on the telephone and asked him to bring me water, oh and something to throw up in, if you don’t mind, because I can’t get out of bed fast enough.  I could hear his voice floating up the stairs and crackling through my phone “Oh dear ok be there in a second.”

Day one and day two were similar, with day two being a little less intense.  Rash, joint pain, headache, throwing up, fever hovering around 102, occasionally spiking to 103.  I hyperventilated once because I thought I was going to get a migraine and lose my vision and my neighbors were BLASTING music of course and it was just all very overwhelming.

Day two I went downstairs several times and eventually sent Gene home so he wouldn’t have to spend another night on the couch combating Kitten and the mosquitos.  Day two I also spent taking care of my cousin, visiting from California, who fell victim to The Chik about 24 hours after me.

Day three I walked two blocks to the tienda to get bread and vegetables.  I came back absolutely exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately.  But I was feeling so much better. My joints hurt less, my rash was receding (it came back in full force on day 5), and my headache was barely there.

I’m about two weeks out from when I started showing symptoms.  I’m frequently tired and often take naps. The rash is gone and I get a headache once every few days, but it’s never debilitating (knock on wood).  The joint pain is going to stick around the longest.  Most days I wake up with a little pain in my ankles and nothing more.  Usually it dissipates.  Sometimes it’s a little stronger.  Apparently this is going to go on for about six months.  I think I’m recovering from it a little faster than others, but it’s definitely lingering a little bit.

Sorry for the long post but I thought y’all needed an in-depth description of how many times I cried in one day.  My advice though? Don’t EVER get chikungunya. Also have jello on-hand at all times.