So I have been playing Dr. House for months now and it is just as “not fun” as when I first started. As I have mentioned before, I think, I have been facing a few health difficulties during my time here in Peru. As much as my adventurous side loves living in a foreign country, my body seems to be tired of it. I have been facing the same sickness since I got here last July. At first it was not that big of a deal, however, the longer it goes the harder it hits me. Thankfully I have an incredible support system. Daniel takes amazing care of me here, taking me to the doctor whenever I need and babying me from time to time when I am stuck in bed. And I have an amazing family who loves me with all their being even from continents away. At some point I will wax eloquently about all the lessons that I have learned through this experience, but today is not that day. Today my words are genuine however frank.

So far, I do not believe that was I am going through is life-threatening (so please do not be overly worried about me). However this week, during another barrage of tests I did look mortality in the face (and I’d like to say I laughed, but there was plenty of crying instead). Among the theories that my newest specialist came up with this week, as we are still searching for a diagnosis, was a rather unexpected possible explanation. On Tuesday, he called me up in order to talk to me privately, and suggested that while going to the laboratory that I also take my blood in to get tested for HIV. Now, that is a disease similar sounding enough in Spanish to take your breath away pretty instantaneously, without much delay from mental translation. He explained that the symptoms that I am experiencing have sometimes been seen as symptoms for HIV. Now when this is given as a logical possibility, the first thing that goes through your mind is not necessarily a logical “that doesn’t make any sense, how in the world would that have happened?”


I spent a solid day and a half between heading to the lab for the test and then waiting 24 hours for the results to come back. Needless to say I could not concentrate on much during that waiting period. It is amazing how much can run through your mind during that short amount of time. I imagined how my life would change, what the next steps would be, how devastated my family would feel, researched online, lamented the time I have wasted so far in life, thought of how much more I have left to experience in life and so much more. Time creeped by so slowly as I waited, yet seemed to fly by when I thought of how these could be my last “normal” hours. And part of the torture is suffering through it alone. I went about 8 hours before telling Daniel, but with how distracted and worried I was acting, he would have been worried no matter what. But that was it. Mostly because it’s one thing to suffer yourself, it’s another to know that you’re making the people you love worry as well, especially when it could be all about nothing. 


Long story short all tests came back with a big, fat NEGATIVE! There are still a lot of questions left to answer, but I am thankful for the life I have in front of me, filled with people who love me. I keep searching for reasons that I am here and trying to live up to them. But I am stuck with the aftertaste of “what is the meaning of life” stuck in my mind. So for now I keep praying, loving and searching.