Illness and Identification

Sun poured into my kitchen windows, pushing the temperature in my house to tripple digits. A fan overhead hummed. A diesel generator outside moaned, and I turned over on the couch. A day before I'd discovered that if I lay on my right side, with my back toward the oscillating fan, the air might cool my neck long enough for me to catch a 20 minute nap.

And if it didn't work, I knew that if I just stayed still for the next 3 hours, the worst part of the day was over. So I'd lay there, listening to the hum-moaning and wait.

I did this off and on for 2 full weeks as my body fought off whatever little protozoa or bacteria had intruded into my intestines. And as I lay there I thought. Sometimes my thoughts were less than spiritual bursts of self-pity. "This really sucks. I hate this stupid country. Why can't I just sleep in an airconditioned house. I wish I could destroy that dumb generator."

But on other days, my thoughts walked out my front door and crossed the street to the Wesleyan Hospital, where on any given day 30 to 40 patients are lying in rooms much hotter than my living room, with nothing but a warm wind to blow on their backs. Is this what they feel like all the time?

I thought about their dirty sheets and the warm water they must drink, since most people don't have the luxury of a freezer or extra ice for drinks. These thoughts often led to self-depracating comments like, "Justine you're a big baby," and "You have no idea what suffering is."

They also led to prayers. "God comfort those people in the hospital. Heal their bodies. Guide the doctors and nurses. Help them know how to treat them." I wish I could say that living across the street from a 3rd world hospital leads me to pray prayers like this daily. I wish I could say I think often of the suffering of those who are always battling bouts of giardia, dengue fever, malaria, typhoid fever, and dysentery. And those who have no American haven to retreat to.

I wish I could tell you that I knew how extended sicknesses like this impact the income of already impoverished families and how lack of income leads to lack of food which leads to lack of strength and extended recovery time. I don't.

But during my bout with tropical illness, something amazing happened. I stopped pitying the poor and instead identified with them. "It's not fun to feel this weak. Boy I bet it's tough to earn a living if you're constantly battling sickness. Wow! I wonder if the people in the hospital actually sleep when it's hot like this." Though this alone isn't enough to change anything else, it is enough to change me. And that's a start.