Well, we all knew it would happen eventually (and odds are it will happen again!). My gastrointestinal tract rebelled and threw a royal hissy fit of short, but epic proportion. I can only assume it was directed at Pakistan, as it’s food, water or slight viral infection ended up being the culprit…I’ll spare you the details but picture the worst, and then go slightly passed it and your probably on par. I knew I was in trouble when I hadn’t left the bathroom in 5 hours and my muscles began to contract in rather agonizing dehydration cramps.
Unfortunately I was in Islamabad, chaperoning our swim team in a competition. Bad timing? Yes I think so. Fortunately, I was convinced into going to the local Pakistani hospital. Now here is where things got ridiculous. I mean…I was beyond sick with my head neck deep in a garbage bag, but I still managed a nauseated smile and sideways comment of “Really? This is happening right now?”. I caused quite the stir as I was picked up from my bed, put into a wheelchair and then transferred to a blue medic van that screamed away sirens on. From there I received Emergency room treatment of anti-biotics, various medications and three bags full of IV fluid. I decided about half way through my mid-night stay to refer to the IV fluid as my ‘sleepy juice’. It put me in a deliciously incoherent state of drowsiness. I’m still not overly convinced that my ‘sleepy juice’ was purely IV fluids. The next day I had glowing reviews of this Pakistani hospital (I did feel almost human again!). I thought it was quite clean and decent until I heard Neil’s retort of “That’s because you were on the sleepy juice…”.