About forty times a year, Michael gets really sick but has no symptoms. Dwight is always gravely concerned.

I realize that I just posted a blog the other day but in light of recent events I felt the burning desire to post again. Bear Grylls, the guy from Discovery Channel’s ‘Man vs. Wild’, just whizzed on his head wrap to cool off. Just what I would want to cool off, piss all over my head. Mmmmm. Maybe the urination thing gave me the burning desire… not that there is any association between the two, at least personally speaking. However while I was in the hospital yesterday, I was asked (twice) if anything happened to burn while urinating. “Actually, yes miss I do happen to feel a slight burning sensation when I take a leak… it happens to be the same searing pain currently ripping through my skull, and while I thank you for you concern with my manly bits, if you could kindly focus on why I am violently cookie-tossing as a result of intense nociception in my cranium, I would greatly appreciate it.” This response was not necessarily conveyed at the ‘hospital’ as I was fighting the urge to vomit, clutching my excruciating brain and wallowing in my misery. I use the word ‘hospital’ very loosely; in fact to even call it a hospital is sketch as best especially if you consider a hospital to be an institution providing medical and surgical treatment and nursing care for sick and injured people. The idea that this place might actually perform surgical procedures frightens me. We had to wait for hours and hours on a routine blood test because the ‘hospital’ did not have de-ionized water in which to complete the CBC, a rather simple hematological test I could have done myself in my lab at Mizzou. I guess I should start at the beginning with the headache that began on Friday night and carried over to Saturday morning. I woke up and set out to make Erin peanut buttercup pancakes. My headache grew exponentially as I cooked and by the time we started to eat I was dizzy and could only manage to eat a pancake and a half. What a waste of a deliciously decadent breakfast. Anyway I ended up barfing the pancakes. I mention this not to gross you all out with colorful depictions of the day’s early events, but to rather suggest that if you are going to throw up you should consider eating peanut buttercup pancakes before you do so. Because I did I was blessed with a rather tasty vomit and would recommend it over all other vomit manifestations. The decision was made to go the ‘hospital’ because severe headaches accompanied with vomiting is an early sign of Dengue Fever, which coincidentally is currently outbreaking here on the island. We called our taxi driver, Junior, to take us the few short miles down the road to the ‘hospital.’ Junior is a middle-aged, heavyset Jamaican man with a voice reminiscent of the love-child of Bobcat Goldthwait of Police Academy fame and the guy that says, “hey, hey , hey it’s Faaaaat Albert.” He is a very delightful man that has helped on more than one occasion. Despite my current condition he barely slowed over speed bumps and took corners on two wheels all the while trying to feel my neck (I was in the back seat!) and give me his diagnosis of my condition. While watching Planet Earth on Discovery Channel, Erin and I decided we want a likkle polar bear. And she maintains that they cannot show us cute baby animals then show other animals trying to snack on said baby animals, as she continues to loudly cheer for the baby caribou... I say "Go arctic wolf!" Junior did mention more than once that as a man I could not handle illness anyway. So after the harrowing taxi ride we were promptly met by a doctor, who despite her lacking facilities seemed competent. I have heard a bit of lore regarding Jamaican medical facilities but considered many of the stories to be exaggerated but after having experienced them first hand I would not be surprised by anything. For instance they had a digital thermometer, the oral kind that use the disposal sleeve, but they did not have any disposable sleeves and just used the same one taking your temperature by sticking it in your armpit. Admittedly I was a bit out of it, but I did not see them clean the instrument before or after putting the apparatus in my armpit. Also the hypodermic needles used to inject pain medications and antibiotics into my butt cheek, three shots in all, felt about the size of a meat injector. Not that I was complaining, but the neat baseball-sized bruises on my butt are interesting battle wounds. I must give kudos to the phlebotomist as she was able to get my blood despite my veins retreating as a result of the frigid accommodations. Also Erin was a trooper through the whole thing, fighting hypothermia and frostbite in her fingers, reading her book like a champ and checking every now and again to make sure I was breathing. I feel better today though the headache rages on, but the drugs help significantly. Rest assured, no Dengue, meningitis, or VD (remember the burning??). The blood test indicated bacterial infection and the antibiotics should take care of that. Here’s hoping to a speedy recovery as Erin is tiring of playing nursemaid.

VD free is the way to be… and knowing is half the battle.
Patricio out!