India: The Sickness
“I want to go home” . . . those all too familiar words are circling my brain again. My head is pounding and the idea of going home early is a very tantalizing temptation. I miss my bed, I miss the comfort of knowing there are reputable doctors near by, and I miss Jon… I miss him so much. Two days ago I decided to be brave and go out to eat with some friends at a restaurant that had good reviews from many travelers and websites. I ordered something cooked: coconut curried vegetables, and I have to say, IT WAS DELICIOUS … going in that is. As I was leaving the restaurant my sensitive system could feel that something was not 100% right. My legs felt heavier than normal, my stomach was beginning to bloat and my head was starting to get foggy.
I began to long trek from town back to the ashram, quite literally one step at a time. At just about the half way point I ran into a friend of mine, a mala necklace vendor named Akash. He and I have grown steadily from passers-by, to customer and salesman, into evolving friends. (Blog on his incredible story coming soon). He waved me over to him and even though I didn’t feel well I knew I had to stop, I owed him some rupees from a previous purchase and I wasn’t about to skip out on my bill. We exchanged the normal pleasantries and then he invited me over to meet his friend, an artist who was busy painting murals on the local Catholic Church. I was debating whether or not to go, but decided to remain positive and give myself a pep talk, just in case my tummy troubles were actually a figment of my fear-trodden brain, which has happened before during my year of panic attacks. A place I had no desire to return to, so I opted for a change in my routine. I said "yes".
We walked the 2 minutes up the small path to the tiny church, which looked just like any other building in Rishikesh—cozy, one story and slightly run-down— where I got a private tour. It was beautiful with all of its wear and tear, a sign that it was used and used regularly, and our guide was so sweet. All of his murals have deep symbolism that reflects God as a whole rather than a spiritual force that plays favorites with one religion over another. He told me that even though he is Catholic he knows that God is energetic and loves every one who loves him/it with their whole heart. He also said he likes Catholicism because of the stories and Jesus. I appreciated his honestly and openness and I loved looking at all of the different pieces, but knew that I was starting to fade quickly. I could feel myself growing pale and I got the familiar taste of metal in my mouth (a sign of an autoimmune flare up). I looked at Akash and he immediately knew something was wrong. He told me I wasn’t smiling and that it wasn’t like me and he could see tears forming in my eyes. The good news about making friends in India… they can give you a ride home! He insisted that I do not walk the kilometer uphill while holding my purchases of heavy books and statues from the day, and instead put me on the back of his red motorbike and drove me all the way to the Ashram, telling me to 'hold on tight' as we whipped around taxis, cows and narrow edges. For this I will forever be grateful. He dropped me off and told me to feel better and that his mom and sisters wanted to meet me (I had made quite a large purchase and sent a bunch of people from the ashram there to buy malas and he was very appreciative of this). I thanked him for the ride and we decided to arrange a meet up for later on in the week.
My head was starting to spin and my legs were quickly turning to jello. I managed to hobble my way up the 3 flights of stairs and lay myself down onto my bed; still trying to pep myself up that I could beat this with the power of POSITIVITY. I was on the bed for no more than 20 minutes before my stomach was grumbling, as if that scene from Alien was about to occur and a creature was moments away from jumping out of my belly button. My perfectionist self was still trying to convince myself that it was nothing, just a little gas or a little fear. I went to the most obvious solution for such a problem: just fart. BAD IDEA! NOT GAS! RUN! RUN YOU FOOL!
I fled to the bathroom with literally a microsecond to spare before my prayer to the porcelain gods commenced. The toilet was cold against my skin as my body pressed into it hoping for relief from the agony that was happening. At the same time that I was wondering why the hell I came to India alone I could hear my neighbor (room 310) in her bathroom wondering the exact same thing. She and I had officially succumbed to the infamous Delhi Belly and were in this separately, yet together.
The next few hours went on like this: bathroom, water, bathroom, rest, bathroom, wash clothes that I had gotten sick on, rest, bathroom. Eventually I remembered the medication that my doctor had proscribed to me and I walked/crawled over to the counter where I kept them; I also had the brilliant idea to unlock my door, just in case something truly bad happened. Food poisoning does that… it literally makes you think you are dying. I began to have terrible images pass through my brain, like Jon and my parents having to fly to India to pick me up from the hospital or worse. I remembered the last time I got food poisoning where I did almost die and the doctor scolded me for waiting so long to go to him. My body soaked up 3 IVs in 100 minutes that day. SNAP OUT OF IT DANI! I urged myself to get rid of those thoughts; they weren’t helping anything and were only making me feel lower and more alone. Think positive. Positive. Positive.
I found the bottle and took the little white pill. “This will fix everything,” I told myself. “You’re ok,” I continued. I went back to my box-bed and fell asleep. 14 hours later I woke up. MAGIC!!!! I had no urge to vomit, or release from the other end! I went to the pill bottle and gave it a big smooch! THANK YOU! I am so grateful for the magic of this little white, sour-tasting pill. I took my next dose (as prescribed) to make sure that this feeling continued and I decided to post about how wonderful I was feeling and to tell the world that I was alive and well! I picked up my phone, told my mom and Jon and Instagram about my experience. I had done it! I had beaten it! SCREW YOU DELHI BELLY! I AM STRONG! I AM A WARRIOR! I went over to the mirror to look at my amazing self in the mirror and congratulate me on this feat of accomplishment… WHAT…THE… FUCK!?!?!
My entire face was swollen and red with hives! This was not part of the plan. What do I do?! There are no doctors near by other than Ayurveda specialists… how the hell do I explain this to them? How do I tell them that I have an autoimmune diease and that this sometimes happens, sometimes not? Do they know what an autoimmune disease is? God don’t be rude Dani! How do I find them?! I rushed to Google to type in the symptoms I was having associated to the little magic pill I took (swelling, headache, dizziness) to see if I did indeed need to see a specialist. BAD IDEA! BAD BAD BAD IDEA. If you are alone in another country and sick do not read the possible symptoms of the medication you took; well it was actually a good thing that I did because I was having an adverse side-effect and needed to stop taking it immediately. CRAP! I had just taken another pill! Should I throw it up? Should I call 9-1-1? Wait, what’s the number for 911 in India? I continued to read the possible side effects: anxiety, hives, rash, swelling of the face and neck, dizziness, headaches, nausea… the list continued for 14 more possibilities that I all of a sudden thought I had.
“Use the tools you have” Jon’s voice went through my head again. Ok Dani, stop panicking, this wont help you think clearly. My grandfather's voice was clear in my mind "disasters don't kill people, Danielle, Panic does." (Oh how i miss my mother's father! That sweet man who sounded more like a philosopher than former banker). Slow down and go through this one thing at a time: You took the pill last night and all that happened was you woke up and had a rash and a headache. Not too bad. Ok, you’re ok. Drink water to dilute your blood. I grabbed my water bottle and took gentle sips one after another without rushing or gulping down the cool liquid. What now? Tell someone. I went down stairs and told my friend Stacie what was happening without sounding too frazzled. She has taken this same medication (which is quite common for world travelers to have) and assured me that I was ok and that she would keep and eye on me and tell Guru Ji what was happening.
I was not alone. I shuffled my way back up to room 309 and decided that being awake was just focusing my energy on every figmented symptom that I wasn’t actually having but thought was going to kill me, so I made the executive decision to go back to sleep. Over the course of the next 24 hours 6 of my good friends at the Ashram checked in on me while I rested. These amazing women brought me tea, food, and encouraging thoughts. Some just came to sit on my bed and let me know that even though I felt like shit I still looked good. I was not alone, but still was missing the one person who always makes me feel better. So I did something I hadn’t done in a long time: I prayed.
“Hello? I don’t know what to call you… Shiva? God? Jesus? Allah? Great Spirit? Energetic Force? I’m sorry if I got your name wrong but I don’t think you will really care if I do. I’m scared. I am far from home and missing everything. My body hurts and my mind wont stop racing and I need help. (The tears were steadily falling now soaking my pillow). I don’t want to die here, I have too much to do, and I know that I’m probably not dying but I feel like if I give up I just might. So I’m doing what I learned here, asking you for guidance because you are everywhere and nowhere all at once. Please help me understand that I am not alone, that I am not my physical body, and that my thoughts are an illusion. Please help me find comfort in this painful moment and I will live my life truthfully and wholeheartedly.”
Bargaining with the eternal figure of energetic force seemed like a good idea at the time, and to end the experience I decided to do what I had been taught here… chant OM. I closed my eyes and began to repeat this over and over and over again in my head. You see ‘OM’ is the universal sound of God. It goes beyond all names, figures, and religious sects; its not some white bearded man in the sky… it is the sound of creation. Some may call it the Big Bang, others may call it special awareness, I call it peaceful. When you chant OM you are talking to the source of energy, bypassing all of the dogma and religious confusion. Its like cutting to the front of the line, because no one sees that another lane is open.
I don’t know exactly what happened next because after a few minutes I drifted off into sleep. I dreamed a lot: I imagined myself coming home a few days early and surprising my family. I saw myself in the airports I was at just a few weeks ago. I saw myself hailing a taxi at LAX and getting more and more excited as I got closer to Huntington Beach. I envisioned myself walking up our front steps and knocking on the door. I saw his face, his beautiful face, filled with delightful surprise. He scooped me up in the hug I have been craving for so many weeks and I was ok. I was better than ok, I was complete.
I don’t know if the dream was “from” an energetic force or simply created out of the exhaustion of the past 36 hours, but I know that it was so comforting I didn’t care where it came from. It was everything I needed. It made me remember that I am not alone. Even this morning I had still been toying with the idea of going home early, but instead of focusing on those fear-induced thoughts I pulled out the letter Jon wrote me before I left and stuck in my bag for moments just like this.
“…Your will has become a force of nature, and I know that you can overcome every obstacle that gets thrown your way…this journey will reshape so much of your life and way of thinking. Do not fear change…”
I re-read his words a dozen times until I started to believe them myself. I can do this. I am more than my body. My thoughts can be just as much of an illusion as a mirage in the desert. Focus on the now, Dani. Be here, be with this experience and work through it, rather than against it. It does not define you. You are safe. You are ok. Breathe, just breathe.
me feeling better and more positive. (so my moms won't worry.. I love you Mummy and Beth!.. Im ok)