“You have parotitis, I´m sorry, I don´t know how to say that in English"

Saturday morning started out like any other day, except that when I woke up, I had a pain in my neck, just below my right ear on my jawline. I didn't really think anything of it. I met with my friend Dave who was going to be waiting in line for his censo (I don't know what that means, but I have to do it too) right near my house. Although it doesn't open until 8:30, Dave arrived at 8. Imagine waiting in line at the DMV – this is the same thing. While I'm keeping Dave company, I ask him what he thinks I should do about this pain I'm having. He tells me that I probably just slept on my neck funny and to give it a few days. Sounds good to me!

Around noon, I went to the park near my house with my Kindle to read my latest purchase (thanks Mom!) “Eat, Pray, Love”. I highly recommend this book. As I'm laying in the grass, I begin to notice that my neck is beginning to swell where I'm having this pain. Huh. That's odd. I give myself a little examination and decide that it's not my lymph nodes (I've had a lot of experience with ear/nose/throat problems in the past), but I'm finding it odd that only one side of my neck is beginning to swell. Oh well! I'm still all about taking Dave's advice and waiting it out.

As I'm laying there reading my book, two look-like-high-school guys approach me and ask me if they can practice their English with me. My first thought is to say no, grab my stuff, and run (well, we all know I don't run, but hurry) away. Upon second thought, these two boys looked harmless so I said sure, and invited them to have a seat. I kept my bag in my lap the whole time, and was ready to scream if necessary. I talked with the boys for about a half an hour, until I realized that it was getting harder and more painful to open my mouth to speak. This pain in the side of my neck was not about to let me “wait it out”.

I told the boys that I had to go home for lunch, which I did. Man. I could hardly open my mouth wide enough to feed myself, and I realized that I wasn't even really that hungry. My host mom told me to rest a little bit. After an hour nap and then some laying in my bed, I got up again, and WHOA. My neck was visibly swollen, and it HURT. Of course my imagination is NOT serving me well, and I begin to think that all of a sudden a tumor has formed on my neck in the period of 10 hours. By tomorrow morning, this baby is going to be the size of a football. My host mom sees me and begins FREAKING OUT (she is a huge, and I mean HUGE worry-wart), which is NOT helping my imagination. She calls Justin, one of my instructors of the TESOL course, and tells him that he has to bring me to the ER because she has to work (she caters). I'm HORRIFIED at this thought. I mean, in the US, I'm at to ER in a second my mom advises me to do so. But (1) this is my Ecuadorian mom advising me, (2) I'm not quite sure how to describe my symptoms in Spanish – she can only see that my neck has begun swelling right below my ear on my jawline – and (3) in my head, Ecuadorian hospitals a sketchy and dirty. Here goes nothing.

Justin brings me to the ER, which is sparkling clean, and I am feeling much better about it. I fill out some paper work (good thing I have a slip of paper in my wallet with my address on it!), and I am immediately escorted into the patient sector. I can't quite describe it as a room, but more like a big area with curtains separating patients. I sit on the bed, and a nurse takes my vitals, etc. Pretty standard procedure. Later, a doctor comes in (he was actually a resident something or other – thank you Grey's Anatomy for teaching me what residents are) and asks me if I want this done in Spanish or English. Look at me. Do you THINK I would rather be told what is wrong with me in my native language, or my hardly second language? I mean, I can barely understand “hola” when I am in a situation that exerts the lowest amount of pressure.

This kind resident tells me that hmmmmmm, “I'm not quite sure what this is, especially because the pain is in such a how-do-you-say confined? space. We'll need to do a blood test and a Cat scan.” CAT SCAN!?!?!?! Oh GOD, I'm going to die here in this clean Ecuadorian hospital, and I will be shipped home to my parents. My mind is RACING, and I can't help but think of my friend Erik, who while in Europe had to go to the hospital because of a small lump in his neck, which, when cut into, started squirting blood everywhere. It ended in him being tackled onto the hospital bed by a nurse, and the removal of a small tumor, of which he still has the scar on his neck. Am I too going to be tackled by a nurse as blood comes spurting out of my neck? Oh please, God, no.

I get the blood work done (thanking God that I'm not needle-phobic because the LAST thing that I needed was to pass out because of a needle – I've got bigger things to worry about), and I got the Cat scan done. Then, I waited. And waited. While I'm waiting, I can't help but think of the Seinfeld episode where the four friends decide to volunteer at a senior citizen's home, and Elaine has the old woman with the huge goiter on her neck. Yes, in my mind, I have a goiter the size of a basketball below my right ear.

Finally, my new friend the resident came back with good news: you will live. It's just an infected gland, and what you have is called “parotitis”, but “sorry, I don't know how to say that in English. The common term for it in Ecuador is 'paperas'”. He gave me some pills that are anti-inflammatory because, since it's a virus, antibiotics will not work. I'M GOING TO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE. I was never so happy.

I spent all of Sunday laying in my bed, able to only stay awake for 30-45 minutes at a time. The entire day I was in a type of daze, with my host mom knocking on my door and taking my temperature (which I vaguely remember), trying to force-feed me, but I'm still having trouble opening my mouth. Aunt Rosi (a nurse) came over to make sure that the doctors gave me good medicine, and continues to tell me “when Lupe (host mom) was describing your symptoms to me on the phone, I KNEW it was paperas!!”. Thanks, Rosi.

Later Sunday night, I'm curious about this “paperas” is, so I text the main-google-man to “google that shit” as he always so kindly puts it. I wake up to an email response from Peter: “You are not going to believe this. You have MUMPS.” MUMPS?!?! Does that even EXIST anymore?!?! Why yes, Sara, it does. You've got it.

I've called the school that I'm working for and postponed my start-date to Monday the 22nd. I'm hoping that I'll be fully recovered by then!! And for all of you that are wondering... Yes, I've had the mumps vaccination. No, it does not seem to work in Ecuador.

Until next time,
Sara the sicky, or, as my dear sister Jenna has taken to calling me “Mumpy”. Love you too, Jen.