You know what the worst thing about being an expat is? Being a sick expat. Being terribly ill in a place where you barely know the language is the stuff of nightmares.
I fell ill last Wednesday night. I met a friend at a cafe and going home afterwards, I felt more like I was being dragged by the tram than riding it. My whole body ached, especially my kidneys, and my stomach was killing me. I was exhausted. I went home and went right to bed.
I couldn't get up the next day. I called work and told them I wasn't coming, that they would have to get someone to cover for me. Ok, no problem. Thursday I stayed in bed, as well as Friday; school was less happy about me missing two days:
''You're sick? Why don't you see a doctor?'' Because I hate going to the doctor and it's going to cost me a fortune I don't have right now, and he's going to tell me to do what I am doing right now. ''Don't worry, I'll be there for my Saturday class,'' I said, because I knew they'd be really mad if I called at 6.30 Saturday morning and made them find someone to cover for me.
Saturday I forced myself to get up and go. My body didn't ache anymore, but my stomach was killing me. I went to work anyway. By the time my class was over at 1, I was feeling a little bit better. My colleages suggested that I may have a parasite, but thankfully this fear was later alleviated. I asked a retired doctor friend of mine what he thought and he said, ''Perhaps it is stress,'' Hm. But I don't think I'm stressed, and my stress stomach aches have never been like this before. However, I ate some mint drops he gave me and I felt a lot better. I felt normal again. Happy. Yes! I went home and watched some TV before going to bed.
I woke up early on Sunday for work. On the way to work, I got the cold sweat again and my stomach began to writhe in pain once more. I made it about 3/4 of the way through my 4 hour class before I gave in: ''I'm sorry, class is over for today, I'm very sick, I have to go home,'' and I walked out and went home. After a long tram ride home which I don't remember, I curled up in bed freezing, sweating, and doubled over in pain.
I slept uneasily and had those dreams you have when you are unbelieveably ill - colors flash before your eyes, the ground rotates in every direction, and mysterious people appear out of nowhere and begin talking to you. You think about unsolveable nonexistant problems and wonder how you will ever escape this terrible fantasy world, and when you awake you are more exhausted than when you fell asleep because your mind has joined your body in tormenting you and sapping you of your energy.
I awoke late the next morning drenched in sweat and grabbed my dictionary - F, G, I İ,İ,İ......aha! Influenza (n.) = grip. Grip. I finally got one. Damn. I called my friend Selo and told him to bring flu medicine, and then called my work to call out for yet another day. By the end of Monday, my fever had gone and I didn't ache but my stomach was in terrible pain. At the behest of my employer, and my intuition at this point, I resolved to go to the doctor the next morning.
I woke up early on Tueday, showered, and visited my friend Kürşad. Luckily there was a small public hospital right behind his carpet shop. Since I finally got my residence permit, I don't carry around my passport anymore, but this was not a good idea when one has to visit the hospital I found, because as a foreigner to be seen by the doctor they need to enter your passport number into the computer. It is impossible without it, a mohawked teen with grubby sneakers in reception told me. Luckily (I should have guessed by now, this is Turkey), Kürşad knew the doctor and we were able to sneak downstairs and slip into the examination room. The room was pink and the paint was peeling off the walls. The examination table was covered in a white cotton cloth and not paper. A bespectacled female doctor and a nurse sat at a desk with a huge ledger on it. They told me to sit and asked what was wrong with me. I told them, ''Grip.'' Hm. Lie down, pull your shirt up. Cold stethoscope. Sit up, lean forward, pull your shirt up. Cold stethoscope. Deep breath. Shirt down. Open wide. Lift your arm, keep this thermometer there. She and Kürşad rattled on in Turkish about something. Take the thermometer out.
''Aha! Tamam,'' she said, and pulled out a pad and began scribbling furiously. ''You must eat only boiled potatoes, bananas, and light yoğurt for a few days, rest, sleep, and then you can,'' Huh? She handed me a prescription and Kürşad shuttled me out of the office - ''Çok teşekkür ederim doktor effendim!''
''Well, what is it??'' I asked him. ''The grip?''
''Not. The food,'' he replied. The food? We went to the pharmacy and picked up the medicine - 10 lira, $8 - and we returned to the shop. Usta was waiting for us there. ''Tell him what's wrong with me so he can explain,'' I told Kürşad (because Usta's English is much better than his). Bubble bubble.....''Aha!'' Usta exclaimed. ''You don't have the flu. The reason you are so tired all the time is that your stomach is not used to the food here. Your stomach is trying to take vitamins and nutrients from the food you eat but it is not getting them, so all of your energy is being used up on this process. The doctor has told you to eat bananas and potatoes and such to stop your diarrhea. You have to rest for a few days, then you can go back to work.''
Food. It was the food that was killing me. All that delicious food. *Sigh*
Well, the medicine seems to be helping a little bit. My stomach doesn't hurt that much anymore, but it still does a little every now and then, and I am still quite tired a lot. Hopefully in a few days I will be tip-top again. I have ventured off of the bananas-and-potatoes path a little prematurely, with some success, but I still hope this will clean itself up soon because my work just dumped another class on me in the morning on Thursday/Friday, so if I don't get better soon, well, I'll just have to go back to the hospital.
At any rate I can't complain about the bill; usually the rate I learned for foreigners to be seen and diagnosed is about 75 TL ($60). Because of my friend's friend's friend, can you guess what the bill was? 15 lira - about $12.
Being sick here is bittersweet.
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