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October 15, 2003 - Anatomy of a Mystery Disease
I've lived through my first tropical fever! Well, so far…
It began with a mystery pain in my hand that showed up as I stirred in bed early one Sunday morning. It felt like I had slept on top my hand all night. 'That is strange', I thought to myself, but didn't worry too much of it. Then I got up. My left foot had the same pain. 'Ok', I thought again, 'That's peculiar. I know I didn't sleep funny on my hand AND my foot'. Otherwise fine, I set off for a day of diving on the boat. It was to be my 100th dive! A diver's 100th dive should be a celebration of champagne-drinking proportions, but mine was a disaster. First of all, my gear didn't make it onto the boat. So instead of being snug and happy in my size small gear, I wore Phil's size large. And I was swimming - before I even got in the water - in an extra-large wetsuit. I looked like the Pillsbury Dough Boy in black and brown and felt awfully plump and silly. Plus, Phil was none to happy with me as he was the one meant to be diving with his gear - shooting some footage for film he was producing. It wasn't too fun getting sneered at by a brash Liverpudlian I could barely understand. But in to the ocean I went as Divemaster for 8 Japanese soldiers - beginner divers, maximum allowed and planned depth: 18m under. So I hit 18m and hovered there to gather the group… but the group would not be gathered. I looked up. Two guys on the surface - not getting down any time soon. I looked down. One guy had hit at least 30m. Eek. After beckoning the deep dweller up and ascertaining that the floaters were aborting, we headed off on the dive. I looked for okay signals but couldn't seem to get any responses. I looked for air level signals, but also to no avail. I guess my instructions hadn't gotten through in the semi-translated dive briefing I had given. After about 30 minutes of swimming backwards watching these guys pop up and down like yo-yo's, I called the dive. Happy 100! Groan… Out of the water and back on the boat, we had lunch and decided that Phil would master the afternoon dive while doing his filming at the same time. Fine by me! I would lounge on the boat roof and sun tan. But it was getting oddly difficult for my normally nimble self to jump up and down from the roof. Both feet were stiff and sore now, and my knees and back were gradually going in that direction too. I was feeling weak. After a lot of extra time post-afternoon-dive mucking around getting Phil's film footage, then doing a little kneeboarding, we headed back to Dili. I wasn't feeling top shelf so I sat on the floor of the boat with my knees curled up to my chest. This is when I noticed the rash. I was breaking out in spots all over my legs and tummy. Sea lice? No… Uhoh, joint pain and rash - classic signs of diver's decompression illness - a.k.a. the bends! Was I bent? I couldn't be!?! I decided I wasn't, since I had woken up with the pain in the morning. Hmmm. Back in Dili, I could barely walk. Captain Mark declared me Dengue fever bound, threw my bike in the back of his car and me in the front and delivered me home to my thermometer. 99 degrees Fahrenheit. Only a LITTLE fever. I decided this was only going to get worse, so I arranged my bed with mosquito net, putting inside a bottle of water, books, pain relievers and snack (GORP), and got ready to settle in for a few days. I thought I had better first tell someone to check on me the next morning but that very person I told insisted I go get checked out immediately. My first trip to the UN Hospital was fun. Being late on a Sunday afternoon, the Thai battalion that run the unit were in the courtyard shooting hoops. One sweaty young doctor came in and after a couple of quick questions, decided I had measles. 'Huh?' thought I, 'Couldn't be! I am immunized!' Besides, I'm in East Timor, shouldn't I contract something far more exotic than measles? He saw I was skeptical, plied me with pain medication and told me to come back in the morning for a second opinion. By the time I got home, I felt 80 and arthritic. To bed went I, sleeping soundly. I wasn't much worse in the morning, but still had a low-grade fever that I monitored closely in true hypochondriac style. I headed out for my appointment with Dr. Pong. I shivered as I sat in the air-conditioned doctor's office - a temporary trailer. Dr. Pong asked me similar questions as Dr. Pusi had the night before - ascertaining from the order of events (i.e. whether the fever preceded the joint pain and rash or vice versa), and my lack of severe headache that it wasn't malaria or Dengue fever. My rash had turned from spots to a more general… ummm... rash, so he didn't suspect measles. He just said it was an 'acute viral infection'. Prognosis: three days fever through which I should rest, drink lots of water and treat myself only 'assistively' (i.e. treat my symptoms). He threw a cornucopia of generic pain, itch and anti-inflammatory medications at me, all free of charge, smiled widely when I thanked him in Thai and sent me on my way with note in hand granting me 3 days 'official leave from duty'. Yippee! But I almost passed out crossing the basketball court heading back to the car. I then settled in for two full days in bed. My body ached. I felt like I had been through the washing machine about 20 times on the heavy duty cycle. Every joint felt sprained and every muscle strained. I found myself counting the hours until I was allowed to take another round of acetaminophen. Sometimes I cheated and took those pills after 5 hours instead of 6. I figured the instructions on the pill package had to err on the cautious side, so why should I? My fever climbed and I was glad to still have a sleeping bag on loan that I could curl up under, but still I shivered in the tropical heat. I topped out at 102.6 degrees Fahrenheit on Tuesday afternoon. I hadn't been there since I was very little. By Wednesday afternoon, I was feeling just fine. The fever was gone and I even made it into the office for a couple of hours. Out for dinner - grilled fish and chillies with rice on the beachfront - I was dandy. Thursday morning I was even better - 99% fine I would say. I made it to the GIS user's group meeting and was fairly productive in the afternoon. (sing) ... But the pains came back… the very next day… And now rash covered me. Ick. But no fever ever came back. Another couple of days of wondering just what I had, and then I was fine again. Unfortunately though, three weeks later, I still have some pains in my right hand, left foot and sometimes in my right knee. I hope they go away one day… I really do… > See photos from East Timor. > See photos from Bali. > See other East Timor journal entries. Back to top |
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