a sculpture in Serrakunda, at the junction where my taxi passed many, many times
Sofia is not well. In the past few days she did have occasional bouts of fever – nothing that couldn’t be cured, in the short term, with a gin-and-tonic -, but now the fever is getting higher, lasts longer, and has an obvious impact on the joie-de-vivre of my travel companion.
The hotel is going to mobilise a doctor, but when this takes too long, we get in a taxi and go to a small, local hospital that I found on internet. They do a few tests, they talk a bit more with the patient, and then they propose to monitor the situation for the next 48 to 72 hours! In the hospital! We weren’t prepared for that one. But what do you do? You cannot really argue with the doctor and go against her advice, and in any case, the outfit here look quite professional and the staff make a very competent impression on both of us. I call our GP at home, but they cannot do much else than agreeing that it is probably best to follow the recommendations of the local doctor. By then the hospital has already arranged a private room, and put Sofia on a drip.
I get back in a taxi, to pick up some stuff in the hotel. It is the end of the Ramadan, and traffic is even worse than yesterday, it takes me almost an hour one way, and another hour back to the hospital. In the meantime Sofia has blissfully fallen asleep.
Next: recovery
Bruno, na alle fantastische reisverhalen en foto’s is dit een vervelend bericht. Hopelijk is Sofia snel koortsvrij en knapt ze weer op. Take care! Dorry
ja hoor Dorry, inmiddels al weer veilig thuis, en hersteld. Moeten we alleen volgend jaar nog een keertje terug.
How terrible to be in a strange hospital and feeling that bad ?