My Africa Story – 18

A very kind man noticed me, saw Doctor Olson’s sign and went in to tell them about me just hanging out (literally) of the car.
When Dr. Olson explained to the doctors at the hospital I had just returned from Africa, they were certain they had a rare disease they would be able to tackle as a team.
As a side note, they had cancer patients on the same ward as I was on. They didn’t know cancer wasn’t contagious in 1980.
For three days they had iced me down to break the fever. The nurses who came in to change my I.V. bag were dressed in what looked like hazmat suits. They all wore surgical masks and hats. I could barely answer their never ending steam of questions with a groan or nod.
Every day was filled with a litany of tests, poking, prodding, blood samples and any other torturous deed they could drum up. They had conferences in my room discussing all the possibilities and the potential treatments they could pursue. Most often I believe they forgot I was in the room or even if they were talking about a real person.
Finally about the fifth day they discovered what was actually wrong.