I thought it was the world’s worst hangover at first. I had been out at a party the night before and over-indulged and tried for the whole of Sunday to blow the cobwebs away. I walked to Coco Beach but still felt weak. I drank a lot of water and had a sit down and a coffee but that didn’t help my hangover.
I got a bajaj and went to Aroma Cafe at the Puma petrol station on Barak Obama Drive because they have excellent food I like eating. When I got there I ordered some water and a chicken wrap which I forced down even though I didn’t want it.
I got a bajaj back home and still feeling like shit, I went to bed early but failed to sleep. My God, I thought, this is a terrible handover.
The following day I still felt terrible but put it down to having a hangover when you get older. I started regretting the beer, wine and whisky on Saturday night.
The first thing I knew something was definitely wrong was when I opened my wardrobe and took out my winter jacket. I was shivering with cold. Even when I put the coat on the sat in the sun at the back of the house, I felt cold.
I texted Mimi upstairs to come and she brought a home testing kit for malaria. I had to stab my finger to get some blood and it took only 15 minutes for the little device to show three stripes indicating that I had indeed got malaria.
My God I had been living in fear of this happening. I had been coating myself with insect repellent every time I left the house but it had done no good. I got a lift to London Clinic with Mimi and after a blood test and an hour’s wait I was prescribed injections and pills.
The next few days passed in a blur of vomit, lack of appetite, feverish sweats and the chills. It was hard to eat anything but I forced half an apple each day just because I needed to take the pills after food.
It took a week to get back on my feet, for my leg muscles to stop aching, to stop shaking with cold and running in sweat and to stop vomiting without any warning.
Apparently it’s not quite as bad next time and I am sure there will be a next time because everyone here seems to have it regularly, especially at this time year of year “Malaria Season”. It wasn’t quite as bad as I imagined but then maybe that’s because I had the luxury of hindsight.
At least I was able to afford medicine and was not at danger of dying. 400,000 people in Africa die of malaria every year. They lack basic protection like nets and repellent and so they have to take their chances with poor medical services and lack of funds in remote areas.