In America, I spend Christmas Eve with my family. We have this funny tradition of having a fast food lunch to commemorate some Christmas Eve mishap I was too young to remember. We read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" and do our Secret Santa gift exchange, and usually go to a late-night Mass.
In Ghana, I spend Christmas Eve in the hospital.
I got a mosquito bite on my ankle that got scraped open when I bumped my leg a couple days ago, and yesterday it began swelling and hurting when I walked.
By this morning it had swelled so much my anklebone had all but disappeared, and I was limping badly. So I went to Hannah, a former volunteer who is back to visit, since she's a nurse. She took one look at it, goes
"This is not very good." "So it's very bad?" "Yeah."
And off we went to the hospital.
It took five tries for the nurse to find a vein in the back of my hand to give me an IV injection of antibiotics. That was my own fault though because I was so freaked out I refused to let them use a larger needle until they'd already stuck me four times without success. IV injections HURT, man, and unfortunately in my desperation to make it less painful, I made the whole ordeal a lot harder than it might have been. Lesson learned...
The good news is that the doctor said it should be better in about three days - just in time for my Cape Coast trip with Andy and Karina :) Infections happen and with antibiotics I'll be back on my feet in no time.
And like Andy said, "Well I'm glad it's not a flesh-eating disease or something like that." Yeah. That makes two of us.
So if I spend Christmas Eve in the hospital, where in the world will I end up for Christmas Day?? Uh oh...
Merry Christmas, everyone!