Hello Readers
No, I have not really lost a leg. Both legs are just fine. The title is just an illustration of the different attitudes towards sickness that I've seen since my gluten reaction.
First, the story. Saturday, my host mom offered me the promised meat that is not chicken, because I told her that I will eat anything that is not bread based and she wanted me to be more specific because she wants me happy, not just satisfied. So I asked for something with carnes, hamburger, and she made me meatballs with my plateful of white rice. My first thought was, aren't meatballs normally made with wheat? Then I figured, oh well, I can trust her, she understands, she would never feed me wheat.
Well, I ate the meatballs and rice and am loving this like crazy, because it's not chicken, when suddenly she comes up to me, all worried, and says that she forgot, she mixed wheat with my meatballs. Oh dear, I think, now I'm going to get sick, why the heck didn't I ask about the meatballs? She was very worried, I dug out my dictionary to explain all the symptoms in the correct Spanish, and she and my host dad tell me that if I lose consciousness, they will take me to the hospital and call my trainer and all that.
I never lost consciousness, I was just dizzy for a day, but then starting yesterday I have had really severe pains in my stomach. At first I thought this was a consequence of the pig hoof I ate yesterday, but by today I was suspecting the wheat because I had other symptoms of a continued gluten reaction, like hypersensitivity to the smell of gluten. In sum, I then called the Peace Corps medical office, was told some meds to buy, the foods to eat, and shared that info with my host mom, who went out and bought the cassava bread and jello for me and even bought me an apple and some apple juice because she knows I like them. Super awesome of her, is it any wonder I love her after just a week?
After my first technical presentation this afternoon, I came home, took my meds, and ended up falling asleep. About eight o'clock my host mom knocks on the door and wakes me up. My trainer is at our house and wants to talk to me. I am a little confused, why exactly is my trainer here? Dang it, I was sleeping! Turns out she heard from my Spanish professor that I am sick and wanted to make sure I was okay, and to ask why I had not explained to her what was bothering me. That had never occurred to me. But she genuinely wanted to know if I trusted her enough to tell her something like that, and I assured her that I did, so she was happy. She and my host mom started gabbing in Spanish about what I needed, and everyone is so concerned about me and making sure I am alright.
Back, then, to the title. You see, I am used to being responsible for my own health. Yes, I am sad because I always have to give away my cookies when we win prizes for things during training, but it is what it is. I do not feel that things need to change solely to accommodate me. Yet, my trainer felt badly because I was not being included and she offered to buy me food when she goes back to the capitol because that's where the gluten free food is. I was like, yes, but I was just going all natural, and they are like, not necessary. You can still eat the food, because you like pancakes, yes? Of course I like pancakes.
And maybe I just did not expect any of this because during the application process, the situation with my gluten intolerance was phrased more like, "What would you do, eat gluten or offend your host family by refusing food?" and I was always like, huh? How can I choose between being sick and offending my host family? I could not even answer that question. Now, here I am, in the Peace Corps, and that is so far from being an issue. Deeply, deeply grateful that it is the case.
This is now the second day I have not used my journal but I am going to go to bed without writing in it. This story will suffice for the record, and I wish to share it.
No, I have not really lost a leg. Both legs are just fine. The title is just an illustration of the different attitudes towards sickness that I've seen since my gluten reaction.
First, the story. Saturday, my host mom offered me the promised meat that is not chicken, because I told her that I will eat anything that is not bread based and she wanted me to be more specific because she wants me happy, not just satisfied. So I asked for something with carnes, hamburger, and she made me meatballs with my plateful of white rice. My first thought was, aren't meatballs normally made with wheat? Then I figured, oh well, I can trust her, she understands, she would never feed me wheat.
Well, I ate the meatballs and rice and am loving this like crazy, because it's not chicken, when suddenly she comes up to me, all worried, and says that she forgot, she mixed wheat with my meatballs. Oh dear, I think, now I'm going to get sick, why the heck didn't I ask about the meatballs? She was very worried, I dug out my dictionary to explain all the symptoms in the correct Spanish, and she and my host dad tell me that if I lose consciousness, they will take me to the hospital and call my trainer and all that.
I never lost consciousness, I was just dizzy for a day, but then starting yesterday I have had really severe pains in my stomach. At first I thought this was a consequence of the pig hoof I ate yesterday, but by today I was suspecting the wheat because I had other symptoms of a continued gluten reaction, like hypersensitivity to the smell of gluten. In sum, I then called the Peace Corps medical office, was told some meds to buy, the foods to eat, and shared that info with my host mom, who went out and bought the cassava bread and jello for me and even bought me an apple and some apple juice because she knows I like them. Super awesome of her, is it any wonder I love her after just a week?
After my first technical presentation this afternoon, I came home, took my meds, and ended up falling asleep. About eight o'clock my host mom knocks on the door and wakes me up. My trainer is at our house and wants to talk to me. I am a little confused, why exactly is my trainer here? Dang it, I was sleeping! Turns out she heard from my Spanish professor that I am sick and wanted to make sure I was okay, and to ask why I had not explained to her what was bothering me. That had never occurred to me. But she genuinely wanted to know if I trusted her enough to tell her something like that, and I assured her that I did, so she was happy. She and my host mom started gabbing in Spanish about what I needed, and everyone is so concerned about me and making sure I am alright.
Back, then, to the title. You see, I am used to being responsible for my own health. Yes, I am sad because I always have to give away my cookies when we win prizes for things during training, but it is what it is. I do not feel that things need to change solely to accommodate me. Yet, my trainer felt badly because I was not being included and she offered to buy me food when she goes back to the capitol because that's where the gluten free food is. I was like, yes, but I was just going all natural, and they are like, not necessary. You can still eat the food, because you like pancakes, yes? Of course I like pancakes.
And maybe I just did not expect any of this because during the application process, the situation with my gluten intolerance was phrased more like, "What would you do, eat gluten or offend your host family by refusing food?" and I was always like, huh? How can I choose between being sick and offending my host family? I could not even answer that question. Now, here I am, in the Peace Corps, and that is so far from being an issue. Deeply, deeply grateful that it is the case.
This is now the second day I have not used my journal but I am going to go to bed without writing in it. This story will suffice for the record, and I wish to share it.
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