On Wednesday I came home early from work with a 101 degree fever. I’ve been traveling in-and-out of malaria & dengue fever zones for the past 2 months, so my first thought was: get to the hospital for a diagnosis–this could get bad, fast. For some reason, I had no other major symptoms. Despite weakness, chills, and pain, I walked myself to the nearest ER–less than 1km from my bed.

I’m damp with a mild euphoric, dissociative trance reminiscent of years past experiments with Ketamine.

To my dismay, I was quickly discharged without diagnosis or blood drawn. It turns out, a dengue fever blood test is false-negative unless you’ve had the fever for at least 3 days. Furthermore, I was told Bangalore doesn’t have malaria (though I’ve traveled though much of South India outside Bangalore). I was instructed to take dolo (acetaminophen, or ‘paracetamol’ as it’s known in the rest of the world) and told to return for tests if I develop other symptoms. “But 101 isn’t a high fever,” I protested. The doctor said it was, and wrote me a prescription for 650mg dolo. *sigh* I’m disappointed by my first experience with (westernized) medicine of the East.

After 2 days of self-prescribed stay-at-home, sleep-all-day, drink-lots-of-fluids, and skip-the-antipyretic-drugs rest, I decided my body needed something more than peanut butter sandwiches, rejuvelac, bananas, oranges, and pomegranate. And the white-rice-and-gravy served at every-other veg restaurant wouldn’t do. Well rested, but feeling malaise with my 100 degree fever, I hopped an 80-rupee auto 5k to the best (vegan) restaurant in Bangalore, ordered their healthiest, veggie-filled juice, soup, salad, and entrée. I went home extremely satisfied, and when I woke up the fever was gone!

As I’m walking home on the side of the road, the bright lights of passing autos fly past me like colored plexiglass shrapnel.

Unfortunately, my fever returned again today. Now I’m damp with a mild euphoric, dissociative trance reminiscent of years past experiments with Ketamine. I try to sit up straight, but my head hits the top of the rickshaw.

I pay the auto driver and hop out. As I’m walking home on the side of the road, the bright lights of passing autos fly past me like colored plexiglass shrapnel. My heart and head are thumping in rhythm with my footsteps. My back is aching, but soon I’ll be in bed. Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll get tested for Dengue.