When class began, I began to deteriorate and feel even worse than before. Betty approached me right away when she got to class to tell me that I didn't really have to take a final exam because she had to submit my grade already with Consuelo, and had just based it off of my participation and previous work in the class. I was relieved to hear this, and I left soon after to go home and lay down.
I didn't realize how sick I was when I layed down and feel asleep for four hours. I woke up and still felt tired and really out of it. Margarita saw that my bedroom door was open and stopped by my room shortly after I woke up. I was packing my suitcases while I could muster up the energy. She asked me how I was feeling and told her about my symptoms. She had been sick with something similar for the last few days, but did not have a fever like I did. She told me that she was pretty sure I had an infection because of the fever. Luckily, since she and her husband are dentists, they had antibiotics and I took some Cipro, which I was recommended before I left in case this happened. I took the medicine and ate a little bit of food.
I was really disappointed when I woke up that I felt even worse and that I was missing the last day of school, a small celebration that the school was putting on and any last dinner or event that some of my Cabrillo friends were doing on the last night. All I wanted to do was talk to my mom and tell her how terrible I felt. I couldn't get any of my calling cards to work from my house, so I walked like a zombie 15 minutes to the nearest store with a phone booth where I could pay cash by the minute. When I heard my mom's voice on the phone I burst into tears. I really wanted to be home more than ever. I had been counting the days, but I was feeling pretty desperate at this point. After only a few minutes I told my mom I had to hang up because I was feeling dizzy and then I started to sweat and see stars. I told her I was going to hang up because I was going to pass out (she says she doesn't remember hearing that part.) Within seconds, everything went black and I dropped the phone. I picked it by finding the dangling cord with my hands, but I couldn't see the phone receiver to hang it up. It was the strangest feeling and I wanted to get down on the floor and curl into a ball, but I didn't because I was in a public phone booth. I finally hung up the phone, stumbled backwards knocking over the stool in the booth, and somehow dug some money out of my purse to pay the lady that worked in the shop.
When I got outside, I broke into a cold sweat and felt like the dizziness was lifting. I still felt slightly nauseous, and incapable of making rash decisions, decided to walk home because I thought a taxi would make me more nauseous. Somehow I got home, it was kind of like a dream, and I went straight back to bed. I was woken be knocks at my bedroom door telling me my mom was on the phone. She thought I had passed out in the phone booth, and since I never answered her back after I dropped the phone dangling to the floor, she wasn't sure if I ever made it back to my house. I felt bad for making her worry, but I hadn't realized how it seemed on her end, I only had one priority: bed. My mom calmed down after she found out I made it home, and I went back to bed.
I got up for less than an hour one other time that evening and then went back to bed for the rest of the night. I can't remember being sick like that before, but I was glad to get antibiotics and rest before I had to get on a plane the next day. At the time I was disappointed about missing the last day's festivities, but maybe it was for the better.
Ooohhhhhh, I'm so sorry to hear you got so ill and missed the last day's activities. That's really disappointing.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I am VERY glad you got antibiotics in time, that you, amazingly, stayed safe, and that it only happened at the end of your trip instead of all through it.
This blog should be titled, "A MOTHER'S WORST NIGHTMARE!"
ReplyDeleteTo all readers: Chelsie did not end the conversation, nor did she say she had to hang up or say the words, "Good bye." She was there one minute, gone the next, and I was left with the distinct sound of a telephone receiver dangling in mid-air. I called out in my loudest and most authoritative voice, "CHELSIE! CHELSIE!"
But no response.
As sick as she was, feeling weak, homesick and so very far away, I knew it was in her character to end a desperate call to Mom in an eerie, casual, absent way such as this. I knew for certain something was wrong.
So naturally I panicked but kept it all on the inside. I immediately called Uriel to alert him so he could help me reach someone in Mexico to check on her. I raced home to get phone numbers and start calling. Imagine my chagrin when the emergency phone number sheet said that Consuelo's cell phone number would be added later -- and was never added! I could only call Margarita's home where Chelsie was staying but... no answer. Then I called the home number listed for Consuelo and got... someone who speaks only Spanish!!!
Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!
I could just picture my darling American daughter passed out on the floor of a cafe deep in the heart of Mexico. Knowing no one would think to look for her for hours, I kept trying. Uriel tried some of the numbers he had with no luck.
With my amazing command of Spanish (Hola, Guerra, Bueno and Perro -- that's the entire vocabulary right there) I dialed the number at Chelsie's house again. This time Margarita answered and I said "Chelsie's Mama". Didn't need my exceptional Spanish after all!
During those moments waiting for Chelsie to come on the line, my mind flashed between two possiblities: Chelsie would soon come on the line in her typical impatient tone, chastising me for worrying about nothing -- OR -- Margarita would return and say something like Chelsie's bed is empty and we have no idea where she is! (In Spanish of course, which I wouldn't understand precisely but which would give me a sinking and knowing feeling).
To my relief it was the former and all my myriad prayers to Gods and Goddesses were answered.
Little Punky came home safe and sound the very next day.