Gastric Terrorism

One thing basically anyone with an opinion said to me before I left was ‘You’ll probably get sick’. Well, Surprise! I stole your wallet found my true calling to the throne.

Not wanting to give the glorious details, I wasn’t yet ready to learn the finer points of squat toilets – squatty potties – so I limited myself to a 5 minute radius from the dorms. One that was tested to its limit by fairly pedestrian lifts.

My doctor had prescribed me with travel meds and a flow chart. According to the chart, based on the presence of my symptoms and the absence of fur, reptilian skin or kaleidoscope vision, I probably needed Aithromycin, and if that didn’t work, euthanasia.

One of the recurring horror stories regarding victims of travel bugs is hospitalisation due to dehydration. Because all of your liquid intake comes in plastic containers, it’s fairly easy to measure just how much you drink. Over the course of the 36 hours that caused me to question the meaning of life, I managed to consume something like 8L of water (A little up from my regular 2L/day).

Apparently those meds seem to do the job, and after the 36h everything was back to normal.

The moral of this story is: Bring meds. No matter how hygienic you think you are.


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