Testing Positive

It was Friday morning when the call came in.

8.33am to be exact.

November 28th.

An unfamiliar voice greeted me on the other line; yet friendly and informative.

Flashbacks came rushing back to me. Remembering November 23rd.

It was early Sunday afternoon. Day seven of our mysterious medical ordeal. Pale, faint, dehydrated, and completely malnourished, we dragged ourselves back to the Southland Hospital. This time, we needed answers.

This couldn’t be food poisoning. It’s been too long. I couldn’t even stretch out this morning; I was in sheer abdominal agony.

There we were, mutually sharing an IV stand, staring at the fluids dripping into our veins. It was a race to see who could go through the 1L bag first. The speed was out of our control. It was a new experience for both of us.

Four days after our initial hospital visit.

Our conditions were worsening. Eating little. Keeping even less of it in our bodies long enough to enjoy the thought of food.


Food.


Ugh.


Food became the enemy. The simple thought of anything made you nauseous. I thought I would never want to eat again.

I ate a carrot for dinner one night. That was all I could handle. It was the best carrot I ever had, probably the most I had eaten in five days.

Both of us, limp and Brent turning green. Both confirming this was the worst stomach pain we had ever experienced in our lives.

When is this going to end?



Cryptosporidium: The New Tannin


“Well, I have some news for you.”

“That’s good”, I replied.

“You have both tested positive for Cryptosporidium.”

A huge relief. We were actually infected with something. The worst thing is going to see a doctor and hearing you just have a simple cold or a flu. It’s even WORSE when you are dealing with an insurance company while traveling abroad. They make you feel like crap every time you need to contact them to seek medical attention. They definitely don’t make it easy – and most international hospitals do not enjoy dealing with North American Travel Insurance companies – and after the few times I’ve had to interact with my own, I can see why. It’s a frustration that you simply don’t need.

But a diagnosis – what a relief.

Well that’s good. Not the diagnosis, but the fact that they found something.

The doctor consulting us over the phone explained a bit about the condition. It’s a parasite, a quasi-relative to Giardia – in so much that you get a similar type of stomach parasite. Parasite = not bacteria, so antibiotics won’t help us. In fact, we were told there is no definite solution.

“If you’re healthy, which you both appear to be, it should only last up to two weeks.”

We were two days away from the ‘two week mark’ when the diagnosis came in. We could start counting down the days until we might experience full relief.

Now, we become a statistic in New Zealand. Two reported cases of Cryptosporidium in the Southland area. Public Health had to be notified by the doctors at the hospital.

We’re such shit disturbers over here.

Twice we visited the same hospital. The first time we didn’t know what was wrong, and how could the medical staff have known? It had been just over 50+ hours since we first fell ill. We thought it was food poisoning, yet had to be treated as though we had the Noro-Virus, a highly contagious virus that has affected a good amount of NZ hospitals recently. Isolation and drugs to cure the symptoms.

Nothing worked. Everything was getting worse. Food was sought after less and less. And at the end of each day, we were lucky to drink 1L of water. I was lucky to keep 500mL down.

We met an American doctor during our second visit to Southland Hospital. We talked through our symptoms and he grew concerned that we might have Giardia – a stomach parasite that travelers can pick up through contaminated water sources. Since we filter our water in the back country, he was puzzled, but didn’t want to rule it out. He ordered some tests for us, which started with a simple blood donation to a few vials.

This is where we lost Brent. Entering the hospital, I was the sickly one. Keeled over as I walked around, trying to control the intense abdominal pain. Brent, he looked healthy as. But once they put that needle in his vein, his colour was ripped right out of his face. I have never seen anyone look so sickly in the face. He really did look green. The nurse grew really concerned. He was told to stay lying down as she finished collecting his blood and taping down the plastic port kept in our arms in preparation for the IV.

She then moved to me. She couldn’t even find a good vein on my arm – and I’m usually told how great my veins are by nurses. My mom says that dehydration and being sick can do that to you – collapse your veins, which must make a nurse’s job that much more challenging.

I donated my three vials, and in turn, started to feel really faint and dizzy. I guess we weren’t the perfect candidates for blood donations that day. We were not well at all.

Lying limp in our separate positions, we became more and more lifeless as we waited to hear what would happen next.

I must admit at this point, that we were both relieved that the nurse treating us on this day was the same nurse who assisted us on our first visit to the same hospital. Actually, we recognized a lot of people – and they recognized us too. All the workers would stop by to see us. They would show their concern and try to find out how we were feeling. That definitely made us feel a wee bit better. It felt like people cared. They knew we were from overseas and that this must not be the most enjoyable experience.

When they took our blood pressure and pulse on our first visit, Brent’s recorded pulse of 833 beats per minute broke the machine. It didn’t fail the second time around, as the machine once again didn’t work with his body. Same nurse. Same problem with Brent. We think she saw the pattern as well.

Fluids. The thought sounded heavenly.

I felt lifeless in the hospital. Dead tired, even though we had just spent the last week lying in bed. Living in the hostel for five nights before moving to the Kelvin Hotel. There we spent four nights with Sky Movies, and at least found entertainment during our bed ridden stage. None of my sleep was restful. I couldn’t sleep through a single night. I would be woken up from the stomach pain. Sharp stabbing pain with no comfortable position available to lessen the aches, I was helpless in the dark. I just let it run its course and hoped that I could fall asleep once again. Either that or watch the late night movies.

As the nurse affixed the two IV bags to our ports, hooking them onto our shared stand, the doctor walked by and chuckled. He had never seen two people come into a hospital and be simultaneously hooked up to IV. Usually there’s only one patient.

And we waited. Drip by drip. Over the next hour and a half, we started to show a bit more life in our faces. It’s amazing what a little fluid can do to your body. I felt better as I sat there, halfway through the fluids. Mind you, when the doctor sped up my ‘drop’ near the end, I was in agony. Forcing fluids into your veins can really hurt!!

Four and a half hours later, 1L IV fluids, blood work, take home testing kits (yay) and many conversations later, we were on our way home with new prescriptions. This time for Codeine and antibiotics. We still didn’t know what we had, so the doctor thought that starting us on antibiotics wouldn’t be a bad idea, just in case. We only had three days worth.

We returned the next day to settle our ‘tab’ with the hospital. Another $202.71 each for this check up. We experienced this truly rare ‘local’ moment. We walked into the billing department to speak to the woman who oversees the international and ACC clients, and were warmly greeted by the five staff members who work in that office. They remembered us from our first visit earlier in the week, and they had all heard that we were back in over the weekend. They expressed their concern for us and asked if we knew what we had. We didn’t have a clue. Then the woman walked us over to the information desk so that we could pay with EFTPOS. When we turned around, the doctor who looked after us over the weekend was standing right behind us. He had seen us in the line and wanted to see how we were feeling today. He was just running in to drop something off in the ER and wasn’t due to start work until later that afternoon. Everywhere we turned it felt like we were greeted by familiar and warm friendly faces. It was really nice.


Cryptosporidium.


When filtering our water on the North West Circuit following our medical stint, we could happily answer why we used our filter to all those who asked. Most people, I have to admit – the “most people” were the kiwis – thought we got Crypto from back home and no longer trusted ANY water source. Our reply was “No, no – we got Crypto in YOUR country”. It’s not just in North America. And we’re officially a Public Health statistic for New Zealand.

Good times had by all.

Now, on our fabulous version of the Hump Ridge – which can be found a few blogs back, we had the unfortunate opportunity to share a hut with some very disgruntled and terribly rude trampers. When we found ourselves in a discussion with a kiwi, about why we filter our water, there was a woman in the background freaking out as she eavesdropped on our conversation. The water on this track was particularly brown, and I don’t know too many people who would dip their cups voluntarily into any creek or stream displaying such a hue. This one woman didn’t seem too pleased of our precautions and started yelling “It’s just the tannins!!!” in the background of our conversation.

To these types of trampers, please be nice to those simply cleaning their own water. They do you no harm, and find that they enjoy their water supply as it is refreshing and tasty. And please, if you choose to drink NZ water in its natural state, do enjoy. I can imagine that this country has some of the finest water in the world. But never harp on someone more precautious. It only takes one time drinking out of the wrong water source to make you regret it.

Unless crypto is the new tannin staining the water supply from the nearby forest, I wouldn’t be too harsh on anyone who chooses to filter out the parasites.