Ebola, Canadians, and Over Zealous Felines

I know I just posted, but a unique situation has occurred in which I have a) a large amount of free time and b) an issue of vital importance. I had Ebola once. It is true. No it wasn't while I was in Africa, actually it was while I was in Africa, twice, but this specific instance of Ebola did not occur in Africa, nor while I was in college (where I also had Ebola once). The first thing you need to know is that Ebola is both a vindictive and egotistical disease. It prides itself on its lethality, and begrudges all who survive its assault. Thus, if you live through it once, it will come after you again and again until you succumb. When I had Ebola in college my kidney actually burst. I think it was the right one, but I can't be sure anymore. Anyway, my parents were out of town, so I called my big sister to let her know. She laughed at me. Can you believe it! She thinks she's so mighty because she had malaria, recurring resistant malaria to be exact, as if anyone even cares. I had Ebola! That beats malaria hands down and everybody knows it. Long story short, my kidney got better and life went on.

The instance of Ebola that I'm trying to tell you about, if you would stop with the questions, started when my cat pushed me out of bed one morning. My cat, Callie, likes to snuggle, a lot. She crawls under the blankets and snuggles right up against you. When you roll over, she snuggles right up again. Somehow, I am subconsciously aware of her presence in my sleep and never roll back over on top of her, only away from her. In this manner I am slowly pushed across the bed throughout the night until I awake in the morning to find myself clinging to precious inches of mattress. On this particular day I must have been sleeping very deeply, because I did not realize that I had come to the end of the mattress, and I fell right off of the bed! My fall was broken nicely by one of my sneakers. Don't feel bad for the sneaker, it was old and the heel was worn down, it had lived its life. When I say that my fall was broken nicely, I mean that the sneaker hit me right in my ribcage and caused quite a bit of pain. The cat, meanwhile, remained asleep and unfazed. I would find out later that the injury to my ribcage was more serious than I had anticipated. I should have noticed this earlier, but I was distracted by the fact that I was due to leave on vacation later that day. Indeed, I was due to leave for Mexico.

The thing that you have to know about Mexico is that it is populated almost entirely with Mexicans. Beyond that there is a surprisingly large amount of Canadians there as well. Canadians are a naturally sneaky people, and often appear to be Americans. In some cases it is necessary to force them to speak before you can tell the difference. On this visit to Mexico, my companion and I encountered a pleasant mother and daughter from Prince Edward Island. When I say pleasant I mean that they utterly refused to divulged to me the secret facts of the life of Anne of Green Gables, and insisted that they knew only what I myself had learned from the movies. Now do you see what I mean? Sneaky. When I arrived in Mexico, my ribcage was bothering me slightly, unconcerned I simply put some hand cream on it and hit the beach. However, it wasn't long before the pain became unbearable. After all, hand cream can only do so much.

The Mexican hospital was surprisingly pleasant. I shared a room with a young spring-breaker from Alberta who was hospitalized after losing a bet with his friends. The good news was that the barracuda was fine. My roommate was in quite a bit of pain as the hospital staff had refused to treat him until his parents wired $20,000 to cover the costs. Needless to say, he wasn't much for conversation. My ribs were a quick fix, but the real problems were yet to come. You see, some time before the bed-falling Mexican/Canadian incident, I had popped into the mind of my old friend Ebola. Thrice thwarted in its attempts to conquer my immune system, Ebola was more determined than ever to gain its victory. Ebola had begun to stalk me, and in that moment, when my ribs hit me sneaker, Ebola found opportunity.

Fortunately, I was as familiar with Ebola as Ebola was with me. Distracted by my ribs, I did not notice the presence of my old nemesis, but in that Mexican hospital, with my spring break barracuda bitten buddy moaning in the night, I felt Ebola make its move. Common medical knowledge dictates that rest is the key to recovery, but Ebola is an ambush hunter and must immediately be routed from its hiding place and driven from the area. I immediately knew what was necessary. I had to find a badger.

The badger is a tenacious beast, as tenacious as Ebola is vindictive. It was not easy, finding a badger in Mexico. Even more difficult was drawing him out. If given the chance, a badger will run, but if cornered he will live up to his full potential. So there I found myself, sweaty, ill, and hemorrhaging, face to face with a cornered badger in the back of that little chapel in Juarez. To this day I don't think that that wedding party fully understands why it had to happen, but I layed into that badger with all the strength I could muster, and received the beating of my life. After a few minutes I awoke, and found myself lying in the courtyard before the chapel, torn and broken by the badger, beaten and pummelled by the wedding guests, but Ebola free and happy.

The key to beating Ebola is to realize that, after the point of infection, you are no longer fighting the disease. Ebola has become a part of you. You are Ebola. To defeat the disease you must defeat yourself. Thank God for that badger, but as I said before Ebola is egotistical and vindictive, Ebola does not take defeat well. I relish our next encounter.