Week #2 - unexpectedly difficult
/We were supposed to start language on Monday but there were some delays in schedule rearrangements with the school, so we had the day off. We did school with the boys in the morning and then Josh and I ran errands during nap time to find some household items we were still needing. It was neat to get out and run errands together. This felt like something familiar in the midst of so much change. All 7 of us developed significant lower GI symptoms that kept the bathrooms occupied most the day. This, now a week later as I’m writing this, has not totally resolved.
Tuesday I woke up with very poor hearing and as the day progressed it worsened. I found myself anxious that perhaps I was developing the first symptoms of Meniere’s disease in my right ear. I’ve had it in my left ear for over 11 years now, but have never had any of the symptoms in my right ear until that day. The symptoms all seemed to match up with how it presented on my left side all those years ago, so I was really struggling to maintain focus on anything other than my ears. Language was fun, but a struggle as I wasn’t hearing the words correctly. I had female issues happening as well (for the sake of remembering accurately the emotional challenge I was facing), so being level headed about anything was a truly difficult task.
Wednesday I woke up and my hearing was even worse. I struggled to understand anything anyone was saying and couldn’t figure out what certain sounds were that I was hearing, like thunder, that sounded like a truck revving inside of a tin shack. We were scheduled to get our fingerprints done for citizenship early that morning, so we were up and out the door before our boys were up. Elijah was left in charge, and we hoped for a quick trip to the government office and back, but it took much longer than anticipated. Between the hearing difficulties, masks and thick Kenyan accents (though they all speak english), I wasn’t picking up a single word of what was being spoken to me. Josh translated loudly for me, explaining to the employees that I was hard of hearing. I could feel the emotional breakdown welling up. I took a nap when we got home, exhausted by the outing, and was up in just enough time to scrounge up some lunch (with the very little appetite I had) and sit down for language. I fought my way through it, straining to hear and understand what our teacher was saying on the other side of the computer. At 3:30 we had a local woman come to talk to us about the possibility of her helping us with the household chores and caring for boys while we are in language. My friend, Sarah, explained to her that I could hear very little of what she was saying, and she and Josh shouted to me all the things Phoebe was saying. I barely held myself together during the “interview” and after Sarah and I walked Phoebe to the front gate of the compound to see her off, I broke down in the parking lot explaining to Sarah the fight for joy and hope that I was struggling to win. She came back up to the apartment with me, laid her hand on my shoulder, knelt to her knees and began pleading with the Lord to sustain me in this storm. She praying for healing, for relief, for hope and joy and cried and grieved with me as I broke down on the couch. I posted on facebook and wrote to our family friends, begging for prayer. Trying to distract myself from reality, I worked on a project I’d been waiting to do for several days. I had a couple light kits I’d ordered on amazon that I planned to make hanging basket lamps with. I had the baskets and the kit and the lightbulbs, so I went to town cut holes in the bottoms of the baskets, just large enough for the light sockets to fit through. The electrician that works on the compound was going to stop by but had forgotten, so I just plugged the lights into a converter and turned them on, since I was using 220 lightbulbs anyway. I was really excited about how they turned out. Off went the nasty fluorescent lights! That evening Josh and I sat down to do something that felt familiar and tried to watch one of our favorite shows together. I was exhausted from struggling to hear all day and couldn’t follow the dialog, so we went to bed. As I lay in bed reading I decided to dig out some of the allergy meds I’d brought but hadn’t been using and got aggressive with some reverse valsalva maneuvers to try to pop my eustachian tubes, but didn’t notice any improvement. I cried myself to sleep after pouring over several Psalms.
Thursday I woke to slightly improved hearing. Things still sounded weird, but I was elated to be able to understand what my boys were saying at the breakfast table. The boys and I all woke up with sore throats but hoped it was due to the allergy season here in Nairobi. Phoebe was at our door at 8:15, 45 minutes earlier than expected. She said hello, asked how we were, asked how I was feeling and went straight to work finding all the cleaning supplies she needed. The bathrooms were squeaky clean within 30 minutes of her arrival and she bustled her way through the rest of the apartment, leaving in her wake shining floors, made beds and a washer and dryer consistently running. It was a huge relief. I sat on the couch pouring over the previous day’s Kiswahili vocab, wondering how on earth I was going to be able to keep up with the pace at which our teacher is moving us through the lessons. Our lesson was done at 3:00, Phoebe was out the door to catch a bus home by 4:00, and I noticed I was starting to feel a bit under the weather, but my hearing was fully functional again. I praised the Lord for his mercy and rejoiced at the normal sound of the thunder and rain outside the bathroom window as I washed my face before bed.
Friday morning I woke to faucet face. My eyes and nose were constantly draining. Phoebe came early again and got right to work. She quizzed me on vocab now and then and encouraged me to just speak and speak as much as possible. I sat to review the vocab and was really struggling to keep my composure, as I was finding it hard to remember anything, so I took a break to teach Phoebe how to make the strawberry rhubarb crisp that I had mentioned to her the day before. Strawberry rhubarb is a flavor of my childhood. I grew up eating everything strawberry rhubarb because we had a garden full of both. It’s intensely nostalgic for me. I never expected to see rhubarb in the market here but happened upon it and was elated to find that it was cheaper than anywhere I could ever find it in the states (except my mama’s garden). We baked it together and let it sit on the counter to cool for a snack after language. By the time our language lesson rolled around I was in full blown cold mode. I blew through half a box of kleenex during language and had a really hard time focusing. I was going down hill fast. Josh was clipping right along, answering in beautiful kiswahili the questions that were being asked of him and I was struggling just to focus. I was asked a question, fought my through it, having to look most of the words up and then excused myself to go to the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the tub and cried hard for several minutes before gathering composure, trying to cover my red face with make-up and returning to the lesson. Our language teacher said she was sorry I was feeling so crummy and that she hoped I could rest over the weekend. Phoebe and Josh and I enjoyed a snack of crisp and tea after language and I we sent some home with her for her husband and son and herself. I crawled into bed early that night, after padding around the house lethargically picking up after the hustle and bustle of the day. The boys were all feeling noticeably crummy, but had enough energy to play a really obnoxious and loud video game with Josh in the living room, so I closed the bedroom door and started a quiet movie in the dark with the fan blasting on me. I could feel the fever coming on fast.
I woke on Saturday, overheated from fever and feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. It was a much needed down day. The worst of the cold hit in perfect timing over the weekend and I was so thankful that there was nothing that needed to be done, other than language review and homework. I lived on pain and fever reducer meds, alternating between laying on a blanket and starting at the incredible blue Kenyan sky through the canopy of ficus trees, and writing vocab words as many times over as I could stand.
Sunday I woke still lethargic, but the fever was finally gone. The McDonald’s were scheduled to come spend the day with us and we were thankful for the company. Judah and I made a run to the closest food market to pick up a few last minute things we needed and we got home just as the McDonald’s pulled up. I’d not been off the compound by myself yet, and figured this day was the day to try, if ever there were one. I supposed that if I could make my way around without Josh’s help when I felt this awful that I should be able to do it when I felt fine. Josh assured me that this was strange reasoning, but encouraged me to go if I was up to it. I was thankful for Judah’s company and help in the market. We grilled burgers and ate chips with our sweet friends and it tasted like the most American meal we’d had since getting to Kenya. It felt like perfect timing after a really difficult week. After laying Zeke down for a nap we wandered over the have coffee and dessert with a couple here that invited the four of us adults to come. We laughed the afternoon away telling stories of outrageous experiences throughout our lives. The McDonalds stuck around for popcorn, strawberry rhubarb crisp that I’d made for Heather’s birthday that was the next day, and then headed out to try to get home before the Nairobi county curfew. What is the McDonald’s and headed home we turn on our home church’s service to stream it. It was so neat to join with them, even from a world away. Judah and I both broke down during a familiar song and felt homesick for the people we love so dearly in our congregation there.
There it is. A really rough second week.
