NEPAL 6: Explosions

'It's a brave man that farts in [Nepal] Asia.' ~ Stephen Bezruchka Trekking in Nepal

It didn't matter that night had hardly fallen because we were already asleep and unaware of the day or time.  Sleep was more than welcomed by us, as it meant that we didn't have to feel the gut wrenching pain in our stomachs even if only for a moment.  I was half a day behind Justin with my ailments, and I seemed to be looking towards my own doomed future each time he ran to the bathroom.  Our toilet was a little outhouse, crudely constructed with a cement floor and two-by-fours nailed together then painted white probably a decade ago. It featured a small hole in the ground, with a porcelain overlay that had grooves on the side of the hole where you could place your feet so you didn't slip.  "Be on guard for leeches." Justin warned me as he stepped from the shack.  My stomach was more demanding than my fear of leeches, and I lunged forward and slammed the door closed.  It was tricky to squat over the hole, aim, hold the toilet paper, and watch out for leeches all at the same time.  I hate leeches.  My thoughts entertained me with of all the ways you could kill those blood-sucking bastards.

The next day repeated the same ol' story, and we lay sticky and miserable in our own stench.  Our only entertainment was reading stories to each other - when our headaches would permit it. In the middle of a sentence, Justin suddenly flew up out of bed, and without a word grabbed the toilet paper, threw on his boots, and ran out the door.  He returned minutes later looking defeated, but didn't offer up much information.  Little did I know what my future held.  Night fell, and sleep overtook us.  I jolted from my slumber sitting straight up in bed.  Simultaneously two sentences crossed my lips, "OH NO!" & "OH SHIT!" I jumped out of bed, fumbled around for the headlamp and toilet paper while trying to multitask by pulling on my boots.  I threw opened the bedroom door, not bothering to shut it behind me.  Staggering like an arthritic, seized-up old lady down the stairs, I stumbled for the door.  It was barred shut.  My knees squeezed together and twitched around imitating a desperate, exaggerated 'potty dance'; my hands pulled unsuccessfully at the doors wooden bar.  It got stuck, and I yanked on it as hard as I could.  Letting out a defeated cry, I heard loud footsteps running down the steps behind me.  Strong hands  reached over my head, lifting the bar and swinging open the door.  I ran out a few steps, and stopped . . . "No!" I wailed looking down. Despite this uncontrolled outburst, the pressure was still mounting, and I ran on to face my fate in the outhouse.  The deed was done.  Opening the bathroom door, I stepped out with tears streaming down my face.  I chanted the mantra of the burned-out trekker, "Mommy, take me home!"  My hands clenched down at my side, I looked up to see Justin standing there, "I wanna go home!" He grabbed me into his chest, and I sobbed, feeling more like a six year old child than anything that resembled an adult.  

After another day of stomach pain, uncontrollable explosions, headaches, body aches and misery, Justin decided that it was time that he walked 40 minutes into the bazaar to find medicine for me.  He left me to my agony, and I tried to sleep while he was away.  He returned with a baggy full of meds and began to administer  them as he was instructed.  Justin had gotten antibiotics before leaving the U.S. and had started taking them the day before; he felt his symptoms dissipating.  We stayed four days at the little guesthouse trying to recover.  Realizing that we had spent too much time in one spot, we accepted that we would have to turn around the moment we could muster up the energy to head back.  We continued to rest and read, and the days droned on, unable to appreciate our majestic surroundings from our healing bed.  

I brought along deodorant and baby wipes to help combat our stench and filth.  We had given up on that days ago as we lay exhausted in our own stale sweat.  Even trying to stay clean required more energy than we had to spare.  I don't believe we could have concocted a more romantic setting for our honeymoon if we had spent weeks planning! Turning my head towards Justin, we talked about how amazing an all inclusive resort in Mexico sounded right now.  We entertained ourselves with talk of eating at KFC (which we previously loathed the idea of commercialism and westernization taking over Nepal) when we returned to Kathmandu, and listed all of the things we loved about being back home: Tillamock ice cream - Oregon Strawberry of course - fresh, clean cold water, and pizza! We continued to spout off all our favorite foods in detail, and everything that we would eat the moment we got home.  It seemed to cheer us up a bit, and Justin pulled me in close.  "If you still love me by the end of this trip - I guess we'll be okay after all." I suggested with a hmph.  We closed our eyes and dreamed of home; where clean water cascades abundantly and filth is confined to cities.  Where you could rest on shining toilets when doing your business, sleep in clean, comfy beds whether you were sick or not, and where your choice of food was not only endless but wouldn't make you sick.     

I sat straight up again, but this time it wasn't to run to the bathroom.  It was pitch black outside, and my heart was pounding vigorously and with a vehement rush of anger.  My adrenaline was pumping, my palms sweaty, and my mind racing with murderous thoughts.  A rash was quickly spreading over my body, and I shook Justin awake as much for his own safety as my own.  "I need to stop the medicine immediately.  I'm allergic to something in it. I'm so furious and covered in a rash." My warning was well headed.  "Ok." His reply was sleepy but he immediately began to search the back of the packages for anything resembling sulfa.  I am highly allergic to sulfa and have had an identical reaction before from it.  Justin talked with me for an hour or two, forced me to drink water to flush my system, and kept me thinking about other things so that my mind was distracted from the anguish that I was feeling.  Eventually I fell back asleep.  Although I struggled the next day with uncontrolled, unprovoked bouts of anger that surprised even myself; Justin was understanding and would keep reminding me that I would be back to my normal self in a few days.  In my clouded judgement I wasn't sure if that day was ever going to come. . .