This week has felt like death and resurrection.
Last Sunday, we went to bed with the aim of waking and walking towards Machu Picchu, that famed 'lost city'. Jacob's tummy was aching, and I felt uneasy as we turned off the lights. I slept lightly, and woke at about 2am to hear him mewling in pain. His stomach was like a taut balloon, and it made it hard to breathe. 'Should we go to hospital?' I asked, but he shook his head, his eyes screwed up. We attempted to sleep, but before long he was up and in the toilet, retching. I felt wild and called Ellis, my friend who is a doctor, trying to keep calm while telling her his symptoms. 'From what you've said it could be many things,' she said, 'but I do think you should go to the hospital. And make sure you ask for a stool sample. I'll text you the things they need to look out for.'
The next morning I booked an uber, coaxed Jacob into his clothes, and we went to the medical centre. 'You look bad, my friend,' the doctor said. He put his stethoscope to Jacob's inflated tummy. 'Your intestines are full of fluid.' Jacob was soon in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV drip. I curled up on a chair next to him, texting his family, nodding off, reading bits of 'My bright abyss'. The results of his stool and blood sample showed salmonella and three parasites, and the doctor said he'd need to stay the night.
I walked back to our hostel, feeling numb and then feeling overwhelmed. I'd need to cancel our accommodation, disinfect our clothes, pack our bags, find another place to stay the following night. I would be alone without Jacob. I had a cry and kept going.
That night, I woke at 1.14am to a ballooning pain. It was as if yesterday's horrors had been a dress rehearsal in which I was the understudy, but now, on opening night, I was thrust on stage. Soon I was in the toilet, knowing I was about to throw up but shocked by the violence of it. I texted the hospital, making an appointment for the morning, then packed in stages, in between more toilet trips and lying down trying to settle the nausea. I texted my family and received a concerned voice message from Mum and from Dad 'Meeyum, take care of yourself.' His loving voice made me cry, but also small child within just wanted someone else to take care of me.
The next day reflected the first: uber - hospital - doctor - blood test. When taking the second vial of blood everything went dim and tilted sideways, then there was a lot of 'Miriam!' 'Miriam!' and something in my nose and other things on my fingers, then the toilet again, then a nurse guiding me upstairs to Jacob's room and getting into the single hospital bed beside him and closing my eyes.
Unsurprisingly, I had parasites and salmonella too (just one parasite compared to Jacob's three, but one was hell enough). Both of us stayed in hospital that night. The IV drip hurt and in a humiliating moment I had to ask for adult diapers but I felt safe, and cared for, and away from the world.
The next day, we were let out with a week's worth of antibiotics and I didn't want to go. Outside meant decisions and figuring out where to sleep and what to eat and walking. I was still so tired. But out we went, together. And so I've been re-discovering the sweetness of the world in a slow way. We gave up Machu Picchu, but explored the cobblestoned streets of Cusco slowly. I felt the softest baby alpaca sweater and saw masked figures dance in the market. We came to Ollantaytambo and initially every morning I'd wake with mounting nausea.
But today is Easter day, and today I woke without nausea. I ran, slowly, up a hill and down it, feeling my breath and my body weak but so much stronger. At lunchtime, we brought our bread and oats to a picnic table in the garden of our hostel and then out of the doors burst a family, baskets in hand, running around. 'Huevos! Huevos!' they cried, and one woman beckoned us to join them. Abandoning our picnic we looked for the treasures hidden in the garden. I found small foil-wrapped eggs, and then a big painted egg. I tried to give them to one older woman who gave them back to me and ordered 'Buscar mas!' (Look for more!) While I didn't find anymore, eventually between us we found thirty eggs. Jacob and I each had one with lunch.
Partway through the easter egg hunt, I paused in the garden sun and smiled. Joy - pure joy. I feel like life has returned, and the days hold out their promise of goodness to come, if I take the chance to look for it.
