Ten years ago, after returning from a trip to Haiti, I was having dinner with my then girlfriend in south Florida when I began feeling very ill. At first, my girlfriend thought I was faking it, because she wanted to do something after dinner, and I had already expressed that I had no desire to do so. We skipped the event, went home and started watching the film, Butterfly Effect. While watching the film, I began to hallucinate. At first, I thought is was due to Ashton Kutchers acting but soon realized it was more like that time in college when a friend had brought me a gift :p. I went to the ER that night and was admitted right away. The doctor came in and said, If you can eat this grilled cheese sandwich, you can go home. The doctor left the room and I gave the sandwich to my girlfriend.... mainly because it has been scientifically proven that a hungry girlfriend is more dangerous than anything on earth. We left the hospital that night, but within 24 hours, I was back in the ER and this time I was violently ill. In fact, several years later, while in a random store, a nurse walked up to me and asked if I was the kid who had gotten sick while in Haiti. He then went on to tell me that I was the sickest patient he had ever seen in emergency room. Days into that hospital stay, doctors were constantly in and out of my room trying to figure out why I was so ill, with most concluding that it was directly related to my stay in Haiti. I had been in Haiti for a month while building a school on land a politically exiled Haitian congressman had given me. My mother and step father flew to be by my side and help make medical decisions. By this point, I was sweating out rivers, and my body would not stop convulsing unless I was on Demerol. I remember my main doctor coming in to tell me they were calling in the best doctor they had on staff. I guess that was their version of Dr House. For days, this new doctor tested me for everything under the sun but none of the tests came back with any answers. I did not know this until later, but the doctor had met with my mother and informed her that my platelet count had bottomed out, that I was not going to survive and to prepare for a funeral. In a last ditch effort, the doctor ordered for blood to be taken every 15 minutes and for it to be scanned for everything. After weeks in the hospital and within hours of dying, the doctor figured out the culprit... MALARIA. They sedated me big time and doubled dosed me with malaria medications. Within 12 hours my platelet count began to rise. I spent about a week or more in the hospital and checked out weighing only 105 pounds. {I am super skinny now at 142) I was extremely weak and needed months of recovery time, so I went home with my mother and she slowly brought me back to good health. I tell you my story because I was one of the LUCKY ones....My life gets to continue, and my mother did not have to bury me. However, Over half a million (627, 000) people die from malaria each year, mostly children younger than five years old. . Malaria medication is beyond cheap.. At one point, Planting Peace could buy 150 doses of malaria medications for $15. We live in a world where materialism is winning.... No parent should every have to bury a child because they did not have access to medication that cost only pennies. No longer shall we look at the person next to us and think that the problem will and/or should be solved by another. This way of thinking has caused so much suffering in the world and led to way too many parents having to bury their child. Another words... PLEASE JOIN THE FIGHT AGAINST MALARIA
Posted on: Sat, 09 Aug 2014 14:53:09 +0000
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