Y'all! I'm tardy in posting today, but I think it's worth the wait! We have an awesome guest blogger from Eat Breathe Blog. Sally, welcome to the madness we call the Monster House!
When I was trolling around for guest bloggers, knowing that things would be crazy for a few weeks, Sally here responded with the cutest, most flattering email ever. Therefore, she is our guest today. I expect y'all to play nice and show her some love. And now... take it away, Sally!
Getting sick when overseas is never fun. Whether you’re locked in the bathroom fighting Montezuma’s revenge in Mexico or that haggis in Scotland seems to be doing a jig in your stomach, you have no choice but to pray the symptoms eventually go away. If they don’t, you have to find a translator and seek out professional medical help. After all is said and done, hopefully things will be resolved as quickly as possible so you can stay abroad and enjoy the rest of your trip. Or so you hope! One thing I have learned from my own experience is to always expect the unexpected!
My husband, Jack, had been obsessively planning our tour of Africa for over two years. We were ready to go, and I was ready for a break from my second grade (as much as I love them!) class to spend some quality time alone with my hubby. We had just finished moving into our new apartment the weekend before, and I was feeling a little tired from the move, but I was ready to explore and have some fun!
We landed in Casablanca, Morocco and – ignoring our jet lag – went right to sampling the local cuisine, shopping, and visiting beautiful mosques. Then, as we were staring at the magnificence that is Cathédrale Sacré-Coeur, I suddenly, mid-conversation, had to lean over and throw up. The other tourists around us were not so amused, and my husband immediately began his worrying.
Image courtesy of wikipedia
Now, let me state now: I am not one to get sick. I always tease my husband that he needs one of those medical alert buttons you see on those infomercials on TV, because he seems to pick up every germ possible and, on top of that, is a total klutz (I love him, but he trips both up and down stairs sometimes).
I tried to reassure my loving hubby it was just some sort of combination of a flu bug and jet lag, and I was determined to have a great time in Morocco no matter what! A couple days later when my nausea, fatigue and headaches showed no sign of disappearing, Jack dragged me off to the hospital. We explained my symptoms to a translator who relayed our message to a doctor (neither of us spoke Arabic, Morocco’s official language) and with my husband’s broken French (the unofficial language of Morocco), we explained my symptoms. Before we even finished, the translator began smiling and shaking her head.
After a blood test, we found out why: I was six weeks pregnant with my first child! Although unexpected, both my husband and I were overjoyed! We both started crying tears of happiness as both the translator and doctor stared at us dubiously. I’ll never forget what Jack said to me, once we caught our breath from the elation of laughing and crying.
“Since we’re overseas, we don’t have to call your mom until we get home, right?”
Silly men, they never change.