June 9, 2007 : Paris - we have a problem

Saturday morning we arrived in Paris to a cool overcast day. So far so good, I’m still feeling GREAT – I even chatted with a lady and her toddler – en français!! We only had about an hour’s lay over, so the herd and I shuffled to our departure gate to await boarding for the next leg of our journey – Paris to Douala, Cameroon. Now this was momentous – we were about to depart the world we knew with all its shiny conveniences for AFRICA!!! A few people had been to other countries in Africa, but none of us had ever been to Cameroon, and certainly not in a capacity such as Peace Corps.

We boarded the Air France plane for another eight hour flight. The meal was not nearly as good as the last one we ate, but I ate most of it, none the less - including the cheese and coffee. Apparently, my euphoria had eclipsed my lactose intolerance and sensitive stomach (this will also be important to remember later) !! All is well and I drift off to sleep and perhaps to dream – of my new life in Africa.

Four hours into our eight hour flight, I shift my weight and turn my head to find a more comfortable position. Suddenly, all is NOT well. My stomach is churning and cramping, my bowels are in a twist and I cannot move because I can feel myself losing consciousness. The blackness is closing in and I cannot move my limbs or speak out. It feels like I am trapped in this roiling mess for some unimaginable length of time, but it was probably just a few minutes. I believe I did pass out – but I have no way of telling just how long all this lasted – probably not more than five or six minutes. Finally, I started to come around and began recovering control of my body and my senses. Fear gripped my vulnerable mind and at this point, my first conscious thought was ‘Ohmygod, I’m going to Africa and I’m going to die there.’ Not too dramatic – right ?!?! This is the only point at which I felt genuine fear about my decision to join Peace Corps. I immediately came to my full senses, rejected such a foolish notion and began to pray. I was still sick, rattled, frightened and not fully about to move. So I continued to pray as my body regained its motor functions. After a few minutes I felt steady enough to get up and head towards the bathroom.

Just skip the next paragraph if you don’t want TMI – too much information ;-)

I made it into the tiny, cramped airplane bathroom just in time to enthusiastically empty the contents of my bowels. I think that took care of my PHL-PAR meal, but PAR-DOU was still pending. The latest round of gastronomic abuse was still roiling in my stomach, but I could not seem to bring myself to throw up. I sat there for about ten minutes hoping the storm in my stomach would force its way back up the same way it had entered – but no luck. Finally I pushed the little red panic button for a stewardess. I explained my problem – in French – and she brought me some cola to drink. Apparently, coke is the catalyst of choice to expedite stomach evacuation. Well, it took another ten minutes to activate a reaction, but boy, is it effective. I now enthusiastically returned the contents of my stomach into a sturdy little motion sickness bag. You know – those bags are much stronger than they look. They can hold over a quart of hot, steaming, partially digested airline food and drink !!

The worst was now over. I felt weak and wobbly, but my mind was clear – as was my entire alimentary canal. I returned to my seat and sipped water for the remainder of the flight.