Letters from Grenada

Wind.

We keep no blankets in the house, so when I wake up freezing in the middle of the night, I go and pull a fresh beach towel off the line on the back verandah.  I ease myself back into bed, wrapping the towel around my shoulders, positioning my body directly in front of the fan.  How can I be so hot and so cold at the same time? I sleep.

The next morning is beyond agony.  The towel is soaked and I am shivering.  The taste of fever spoils my mouth.  Pain like thick acid courses through my joints.  This is why, I think, some call it the bonecrusher.  I force myself to shower before I get back into bed.  I drink juice, but I am queasy.  The maid clucks over my hot forehead.  She takes the baby.  I sleep the rest of the day, waking when I am cold to wrap the sheet tighter.  I am freezing, the more so when I’m hot.  I am not quite delirious, but I am high.  I wake after dark, and I hear Michelle Obama’s voice.  I want to watch but I can’t sit.  I swallow paracetamol.  I listen to Michelle for two minutes, drift away again.

When I wake again it’s still dark but nearly morning.  The roosters have been up for two hours.  My skin is warm and achy but my fever has receded for the moment.  I’m awake until nearly noon — manage to shower again — before I suddenly feel so hot and sick and miserable that I want to cry except I’m too tired to breathe that deeply.  The pain in my back is searing, my legs are so sore I cannot stand, and all I can think is that this is worse than labor.

Over the next three days, my fever breaks, recedes and then returns more times than I bother to count.  I don’t know if I have a mild case of dengue fever or a terrible case of the flu, but either way the treatment is the same:  rest, fever reducers and hydration.

I’m still thirsty.

***

It’s so bizarre watching hurricane coverage, CNN talking about Gustav on the way while he’s already passed over Cuba and Jamaica.  I saw a little bit of him myself, last Saturday, when it rained so hard we closed doors we never close.  But today it feels like dry season.  I guess Gustav took all the rain with him.

Posted on August 31st, 2008 under Grenada • Tags: caribbean, Grenada, living abroad, memoir, tropical illness. •  Print This Post •  Email This Post • RSS 2.0 feed • Leave a response, or trackback