Holiday Cheer!

Well sorry for the long delay AGAIN. Clearly I'm failing at communication of late, but I'm going to pull the sick girl card again. I've been back to school- the children were so excited. I think some of them thought I wasn't coming back- mostly due to their slightly stunned faces when I walked into the classroom on Tuesday. They kept looking at me like I was about to vanish into thin air the whole week. And when I left the room for my lunch they kept saying, "Teacher, where you go? Where? Stay here." So I clearly capitalized upon their fear and told them if they were naughty I wouldn't come back again. At the end of my first day back I gave them all stickers and hugs at the end of the day (which I never do). I get enough of them touching me when it's unsolicited...I don't want them to think I want them to touch me. Plus if you know me you know I don't do hugs. But some of them were so excited. It was kind of cute.

My friend Hayden from college is here visiting because we were supposed to go to Mumbai. Unfortunately we canceled our tickets because I thought going there with a malfunctioning immune system might be the equivalent of throwing myself into the middle of a Doha roundabout. Instead we're going to Istanbul now for five days. I'm quite excited about this. Although I'm not sure if anything we experience will top yesterday's festivities for National Day. National Day is basically the Fourth of July except with more glitter involved. Most people decorate their cars (because when you have exclusively disposable income what's another paint job for your car?) with enormous Qatari flags, the Qatari flag inside a heart, and sparkles. Sparkles. And more sparkles. These cars will slowly peruse the Corniche along the Gulf and proceed to honk at everyone in sight. Whilst men are sitting on the roofs of the Lexii (what is the plural of Lexus?), in traditional dress, barefoot, holding enormous Qatari flags. Hello tradition meets modernity. Thank you Qatar. STILL missed the sheikh though. Devastated.

Just to shake up the school blogs...

So a surprise trip to the emergency room (or two) is one way to realize what you’re really thankful for. Since last posting I have been in the hospital more frequently than school. I discovered that the place I thought was the emergency room was really just the free clinic near where I live. I discovered this when I went back there last Tuesday and the doctor took one look in my throat and sent me to the real emergency room. To give a little background – I tried to go to school on Tuesday, even though when I woke up I felt like death (which I’m sure had nothing to do with chasing Abdulrahman across the school grounds screaming his name on Monday afternoon) but ended up having to go home mid-morning because I could neither stand nor speak, both of which are prerequisites for dealing with three year olds for an 8 hour day. I tried sleeping on the couch for a few hours but ended up going back to the doctor. Now, this doctor sends me to the ER immediately because I have an abscessed tonsil and am having difficulty breathing. Now, here is where the fun begins.

Upon checking into the ER, I am seen almost immediately. The triage doctor admits me and prescribes an IV with antibiotics. As they are getting ready to give me antibiotics, they ask if I have any allergies. I tell them penicillin…much to their shock. Apparently what I had been taking for the last six days was PENICILLIN. The doctor told me the reason that antibiotic is so effective is because it is a penicillin cocktail. No wonder I didn’t feel any better. But then she kept asking if I had no reaction to it, and I told her no. So they give me a new antibiotic in an IV, keep me for a few hours, and send me home with it to keep taking. So then Thursday morning I wake up and my face is swollen beyond imagination and a red rash is spreading down my neck and chest. Now this frightens me, but as I have the most sensitive skin in the world I go to the free clinic doctor (we’re just about BFF at this point) to make sure I am not being paranoid but no, she sends me back to the ER right away. Where they admit me, for the second time, only to tell me that in 10-15 percent of people with a penicillin allergy, the second antibiotic I had been placed on causes even more severe reactions. BECAUSE IT TOO IS IN THE PENICILLIN FAMILY. WTF. So now I undergo a barrage of tests for malaria, glandular fever, tonsillitis, allergies, etc. (And since then I’ve seen dermatologists, ENT doctors, emergency room doctors, infectious disease specialists… you get the picture.)

Now two days in the hospital for someone with no energy to read, no television, and a moral objection to iPods will afford some time for introspection. Especially while waiting for visitors to arrive. As I was laying there it really hit me for the first time that I was alone in a foreign country and where the choices that I’m making in my life are taking me. My friends here are lovely; they stayed with me, brought me things, are taking care of me, are bringing me juice and food during my convalescence, everything you could ask for. But it’s not a substitute for your family. I mean I suppose in a way we are for each other – we’re all in the same place right now. We’re all about the same age and we all moved here alone so this is what you do for each other, become a kind of family. But sometimes you just want your mom.

But how is this for Providence? My friends showed up at the hospital after school on Thursday with cards from my second grade art class (hilarity) and a card from my mom and Peter! Such serendipity. It was waiting in my mailbox at school. So it was ALMOST like my mom was there, faster than she would have been if I had been in some silly place like Boston or California or something. So I had many nice cards on my little table next to my bed (one of the nurses asked, “Oh, are these from your children?”…. as if. I felt like saying, “Oh, yes. All 31 of them.” Silly wench). Most of them included variants of “Mess DeFelice (various entertaining spellings) I love you. Feel better.” ‘Mess’ is frequently the substitute for Miss, because that is how they say it. Why shouldn’t it be spelled that way too? Plus it’s generally a pretty accurate description of my life. “You’re my best Mess.” (Verbatim from a card). Thanks, kids. The funny thing is it’s like they can see my inner self. It’s so true I can barely do anything but laugh. I am the Mess. My favorite card (which I’m keeping forever) is from a little boy named Youssef who wrote:

“To: Miss Defilice, Please get well soon I miss you a lot so don’t you dare think of being absent next week. From: Youssef 2C”

Yes sir, Youssef.

So, to recap, things I am thankful for:

The genius of the Postal Service

The discovery of non-penicillin based antibiotics

My real family

My new little Doha family

2 C’s Art Class

-The Mess