Zika

Do you want to hear a joke? The United States Peace Corps. 

   When a Zika-type virus was going around my village, we were all convinced we had it. This is because we all lived like heathens—except for the two hours everyone (myself excluded) spent in church every Sunday morning—so, they thought God was punishing them.

I thought I had it, because all my symptoms aligned with what was known about the virus. My muscles ached, and my headache included pain behind the eyes. The thing is, the entire country of St. Lucia could send only five samples per week to Trinidad to be tested, because doing so was expensive. So, the two confirmed cases were the first two positive results sent back from Trinidad.

   I decided to call the Peace Corps medical officer to ask if there was any way I could be tested for the virus. Surely, they could divert a mere fraction of the 500 million USD for Zika, which Obama had just diverted from Ebola, to one test for me. The medical officer’s voicemail informed me that she was off the island to compete on The Price Is Right and advised me to kindly phone the local on-call doctor, which I did.

   He asked about my symptoms, including whether I had a fever. I told him I would check, but I didn’t know how to use the thermometers that had been provided in our medical kits. These kits were issued by the US government to each volunteer and included basic supplies like band aids, over the counter medications (all of which were expired), as well as oral rehydration salts that were, more often than not, used to treat hangovers. The thermometers were probably the type used on the first Lewis and Clark expedition. The doctor didn’t know how to use them either. After sticking the thermometer in a few different places, I gathered that my temperature was normal.

   “Okay. That’s fine. You don’t have a temperature, so you don’t have Zika. According to the Center for Disease Control website . . .” He proceeded to read me the information on the website. I followed along as he read, since I already had the website open in front of me. I asked whether he could do any additional tests. My rash was spreading, my joints hurt, and my eyes were bloodshot.

    “Do you use bug spray?”

   “Yes. Literally twenty-four hours a day. I put it on as soon as I get out of the shower.”

   “You put it directly onto your skin? Is that allowed?”

   “Uh, yeah? It’s the Deet issued in our medical kits.”

   “Oh! The one with the spraying nozzle. That’s a new technology. I guess you can put it on your skin. Well, don’t worry. According to the CDC website, only twenty percent of people catch Zika, so if you have ten people, only two will catch it. And then, it will go away on its own.”

   “Yes, but aren’t there long-term repercussions?”

   “No. Because once you get it, you become immune and will never get it again.”

   “I mean, will this affect me in the future if I ever become pregnant?”

   “I’m not sure what you mean. Compared to dengue and chikungunya, Zika is the least severe. Dengue is the worst, then chikungunya, then Zika. I hope I made you feel better about all of this. I’m sure you are fine. Goodbye!”

   Click!

I swatted at a mosquito flying by and thought, Peace Corps—making simple shit hard since 1961.