Bronchi-saurus

Being sick in Azerbaijan is not what I would call an ideally good time. In fact, I would identify it as the time when I am most frustrated by the culture or my service. For about the past five years, I have gotten ill at the same time every single year. This is no exaggeration folks. I say five years because the doctor records prove it, but it could be longer. It all started when I transferred to North Dakota State University and moved into the dorms with THE strangest roommate. Maybe ever. She would lie in bed day and night and hardly eat anything. When I asked her if she was sick, if she had mono, or strep throat, or was depressed, she always just said no. But then one day she was gone. Just gone. Most of her things were still there, but her toothbrush, computer, and the girl were missing. After about a week, I reported it to the Resident Assistant, who did not seem to be too worried about it. During her absence however, I developed major strep throat and mono. I had never had either of these before and was certain the devil himself had come into my room to take me to hell. Eventually after some strong medications and two weeks in bed/falling asleep in the classes I attempted to go to, I pulled around. Surprisingly, my roommate and her mother showed up one day, packed up all of her belongings, and left. Wouldn’t you know it, she had mono and strep throat and had gone home to recover. I cannot even recall her name anymore. That was the end of January, beginning of February in 2007.
In 2008, I went to the student health center where the nurse joked that I was admitted the same exact day the year before for the same symptoms. Unfortunately that year, I spent about four months doing a song and dance of strep throat, mono, and antibiotics, until it all culminated in chopping out my tonsils in April. Getting my tonsils out helped immensely. But last year I spent Valentine’s Day in the hotel in Baku from an acute case of bronchitis that had plagued me for a few weeks. And this year I repeated that story.
After being here for a year and a half, getting sick should seem relatively routine. Usually at home you would call work, stock up on juice and soup at the store, and settle in at home with some movies and books. I still find I am juggling a weird mixture of Azerbaijani methods and American methods, though. For example, I would love to retreat into a silence that is all mine. However, the only warm room in the house is the one where the two children are screaming and throwing toys, my host dad and brother are playing a really loud form of backgammon, and my sister-in-laws are gossiping with my host mom. Usually this means I take refuge upstairs in my cold, unheated room. However, I do that fully knowing I will then suffer from hearing every single person berate me on the evils of laying in my cold room and one hundred “I told you so’s” before the end of the day is over. I have learned to pick some of my battles though. For example, I would rather lie in the cold, cold room than be in the hot room with all of the noise. I have wholly accepted the cupping treatment because even though it is frightening, it is easier to do than hearing people tell me the reason I am not getting better is because I haven’t done it yet. I now wrap my head after I shower and sit next to the wood stove for a few hours so I don’t “catch more of a cold.” But some things I won’t back down on, either. I really dislike the tea with a certain bitter jam mixed in which is ‘medicine.’ It is not medicine and it tastes awful. Vitamins, sleep, and lots of water are the trifecta of recovery. Chicken noodle soup and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off make me feel like I’m at home on a day off from school. And mostly, I absolutely love taking American medications and immediately feeling better from them. We may be an overmedicated society, but it sure is effective.
I really hope this is the last time I ever have to experience Bronchitis again. It is no cup of tea, and twice was enough. I am happy I am starting to figure out the little things that make recovering from an illness easier. While it is not always smooth sailing, and usually I am pretty frustrated by the amount of people chiming in their thoughts on my sickness, I am happy that I live in a PC country that I can get to the doctor in less than a day.

**Fun Fact: In Azerbaijani, the word “Sick” is one of the most offensive swear words in the language. It is equivalent to the F word in English. I know have trained myself to only ever say ill, and often cringe when I hear others say sick.