Getting Sick...

Preparing to go to India, I had been told that everyone who goes gets sick to some extent. It kind of scared me, but I knew that I was supposed to go and that God would take care of me. Before I left I took oral medication to prevent malaria and typhoid, as well as shots to protect me from Hepatidis B, and polio. Yet, within 3 days of being in India, and after eating relatively conservative food (no spicy food or street food), I was already sick with a fever and stomach issues. Every time I walked in the streets I would feel nauseaus because of the smell of the urine, sweat, trash, raw meat being sold, and smoke from cooking food. 

Trash in the streets...this was everywhere.

 This scared me because I was just getting acclimated but in retrospect it happened to most people I know and was not too big of a deal. My scariest moment in India was being up in the middle of the night, with a fever nearing 103 F, knowing that if I were to collapse in my room that night that no one would necessarily know where I was, or be able to burst into my room because of the massive padlock that locked the door from the inside. I had forgotten to bring my insurance information, and had no idea how to get to a hospital. I did not have a phone with me, and the internet cafe was closed. I took my temperature every hour, and a cold shower (all showers are cold, or lukewarm there...)  and that seemed to help. 

This was our Bathroom in Modern Lodge.
The shower water drained into the toilet, on the ground.
Ants were continuously on all the walls.
Yet, there was privacy, a priveledge compared to the poor on the street.

All night I prayed and sang to myself- something that alone could calm my racing thoughts. The sisters sing a song every day which I grew to love, and sang to myself throughout the night. Each day before we went out to serve we would sing, "We have our hope in Jesus, that all things will be well, that all things will be well, that all things will be well in the Lord."

Sick, but smiling...or trying to!

Throughout the night I was clinging to this song, this reality, hoping that even in my fever reduced stupor that God would guide me and I would not loose track of what I practically ought to be doing. In the morning I was too weak to walk to the Motherhouse so I took a taxi and some Missionary of Charity sisters told me to get a blood test, which my friend Kristan took me to. After throwing up on the street en route to the health clinic, I made it, after 1 hour of walking in circles....

In the end, I was fine, but the doctor put me on antibiotics for 10 days to protect against the possibility of typhoid. Two weeks later I also got sick, and had more blood tests. Usually the sicknesses that I and the other volunteers succombed to were solved by lots of sleep and water intake (as dehydration is a constant concern), and being careful with the food we ate. Travelers Dhiarrea was extremely common and annoying- yet it became a normal topic to discuss (strange how traveling changes what you are comfortable sharing with others). 

This is my hotel...as you can see it was very Modern :)

Looking back, I am grateful for being sick in Kolkata. It pushed me to be grateful to God for everything, and I knew that God had called me there and was looking out for me. Therefore, if He allowed me to be sick, there must have been something that He planned to teach me through being sick. I didn't want to avoid sacrifices or pain, or sickness, because that meant not being open to learning what He wants to teach me. That one night in Kolkata when I had the fever was a night of beauty for me- I was weak, and I knew it, and yet I knew that the God who called me by name would not abandon me, but wanted, through my sickness, to speak to me of his infinite love and tenderness....something I forget when I feel self-sufficient, and everything is going my way.