But he said, “Blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it!”

Luke 11:28

I got some cards made from a watercolor piece I did, spent an evening in the hospital, felt the injustices of American healthcare, took Tobi for a walk, and spent more time on the toilet than I would have like to.

Artsy Fartsy

I made a watercolor painting of some African fabric patterns to make into some thank you cards to mail out to people. Then I ordered it as a print for some cards, and they came in the mail this week!

I’ve spent a good amount of time this week writing some cards to send out. It’s been good to meditate with a posture of thanksgiving towards people who have been alongside me during this journey and given towards the way God has been working in Guinea and in my own life.

My dad was impressed and said maybe I should open an etsy shop to sell cards and things or something. HMMM.

American healthcare makes me sad

On Wednesday I had a pretty violent episode of poos and spews that sent me to the hospital in a wah-mbulance. Obligatory hospital selfie:

We’re not really sure what caused the trouble. The episode came on quite suddenly and acutely; next thing I know I’m lying on the floor of my bathroom with cold sweats and shaking from all the physical stress. Within about an hour I called an ambulance and was rushed to the hospital. Ten minutes, a whole liter of (COLD!) IV fluid and a dose of Zofran later, I’m doing much better. Since I didn’t have a fever or any abdominal pain they couldn’t really rule in or out different causes of the D&V. So after a few hours of making sure I was stable and didn’t have any other underlying stuff, they sent me home with some more magical Zofran.

The next day, I got my slightly viscous injection I get about once a month for some autoimmune problems I have. And by slightly viscous (per the manufacturer’s package insert) that injection is like jelly! And the person at the shot clinic pushed it like it like a flu shot I got a bit of a bruise, womp.

But the good news is that I’m not dealing with the itchies anymore! So I’m okay with getting a tiny sharp bruise if that means no more weird problems. Autoimmune disorders SUCK UGH.

Because of the injection’s risk of causing delayed anaphylaxis, I’m supposed to carry an EpiPen, an auto-injector that delivers life-saving drugs in the event of a severe allergic reaction. My EpiPen expired a years ago, and it’s been packed away from when I moved out anyhow so I got a new prescription to fill for another one. I never got a new one when it first expired because around the time it expired was when the EpiPen price gouging scandal happened in the United States, where the manufacturer of the EpiPen, hiked prices about 500-600% over the course of a few years after acquiring the exclusive rights to distribute it. A pen that requires $10 to produce costs over $600 to acquire. Inelastic demand. People who need EpiPens cannot not have them. The United States doesn’t have a national healthcare system; we still spend the most money on healthcare per capita without seemingly better outcomes to other high-income nations. After insurance, my pair of EpPens still cost $300 out-of-pocket.

The outrageous pricing of American healthcare was reason enough for me to think twice about calling the ambulance when I was literally not sure if I would even be conscious the next minute while home alone. My family is financially secure and stable enough that I knew that it would not make a significant difference that I called–yet I knew that an ambulance ride alone can cost hundreds if not thousands of dollars. In any case, I think it’s ridiculous that I thought twice about calling for help when I clearly was not doing okay.

That’s enough on my soapbox.

My mom worked from home to help take me around and make sure I was feeling okay. She took me for ice cream after my appointment.

This post is full of selfie’s and I’m really sorry. But the wrapper said so.

The Dairy Queen that we went to was attached to this gas station that had these ENORMOUS 52-oz reusable drink container mug things. It was like the size of a small watermelon. Portion size in America is basically non-existent.

Raw Potatoes

Okay so some backstory. Sometimes people tell me things and then I draw comics on my phone because they make funny images in my head. Like when Eileen found a cockroach in her bed. (“Well, I guess I just need to burn my whole bed now.”)

Or when Sally got an entire barracuda from the fish market in Guinea:

Or when our lab incubator broke and my friend said, “Just sit on them.

And then soon after we had a discussion about our lab’s terminology of “planting” plates

Anyway, so I was having some stomach pain over the next few days and my stomach felt like there was a clog (I havne’t really pooped for days after my hospital visit), and my friend asked “did you swallow a whole raw potato.” (I did not.)

Tobi’s great adventure

I took Tobi out for a walk in the backpack carrier. He tried to hide while I was gonna grab him to throw in the backpack, but he doesn’t always do the best job hiding.

I eventually got him and man he was sooooo p i s s e d.

My parents suggested we go on a walk around the neighborhood because it was super nice out and maybe the movement would help me move my tummy pipes to move along the raw potatoe so I could poop it out a bit. Tobi was pretty scared and huddled in the bag for most of the walk, but eventually he warmed up and started poking his head out to smell things people’s plants that I offered him to smell.

The backpack was a gift from Bonchi! It’s like a rolly backpack but also a carrier. Tobi seemed to enjoy his time outside until the very end, when he threw up everywhere. I think he might have had a bit of motion sickness from me bumbling around. I’ll probably give it a few more tries and see if he can get used to it. It will have to wait until the carrier dries out after I washed it.

Until next time.

Jasmin