Some of you have asked about my health, what with my being in a cesspool of sickness and pollution. The volunteers all take precautions with rubber gloves, facemasks, vitamins, protein, malaria pills, etc. The pollution gets to us sometimes, and sinus infections are the norm. They usually go away in a few days. The most frequent malady is, as one might expect with rich, spicy, good Indian food, diarrhea. Knock on wood, I've only experienced it twice.
Last week's was on a local train with four more stops to go. It hit me all of a sudden, and man did I have to go right now. But with a ways still to go on the moving, jarring, bumpy train, I had to really concentrate. I had a vice-grip on Trever's arm and forbade him to speak to me for fear he'd make me laugh causing disaster to strike. The train arrived at the station, Trev helped me off the train and I slowly walked toward the exit with my head down. It was nighttime, so it was dark outside. "Hmmm . . . nobody would see me if I just hopped down on the train tracks five feet below," I thought. No joke, I actually considered this. My eyes began to blur; my face turned white. "Please, God, oh PLEASE don't let me blow!" And as if it were the Pearly Gates, there was a sign indicating a women's bathroom. And, Hallelujah, I just happened to have a square of toilet paper in my bag. No Western toilet; just an Indian "toilet," which is a hole in the ground for squatting. No problem-o here. Five more seconds and I wouldn't have made it.
After that, I was a new woman: I had been saved by Divine Providence of an Indian Toilet. Trever was now allowed to talk to me. So other than that, I remain healthy and my plumbing is fine.
