My Time With Dengue

Having Dengue was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had, with the first three days being the most painful. I truly believed I was dying, a feeling which was reinforced by the news reports that had played during the start of the outbreak. 

I never expected to catch Dengue. No matter the temperature, my daily outfit consists of my long hoodie, thick socks, and pants. I also had the electric zapper and slept with a fan on. I always complained to my family about leaving the door open for too long, letting mosquitoes in. This is why public health can never be left up to ‘personal responsibility’. You can personally take as many actions as you want to manage your health, but the decisions of those around you will always have an impact on it.

The first symptom I experienced was a piercing headache that felt like someone had hammered a thin needle into my skull. I had never experienced a migraine before, so I thought that this really bad headache was a migraine. I stayed in bed and messaged my mother on WhatsApp, who was in the same house, that I wasn't feeling well, so I wouldn’t be able to finish doing the dishes. I could barely move without my head throbbing.

The next day, I woke up freezing from a fever, with joint pains and the same piercing headache. I definitely wasn’t able to go to work; I spent the whole day in bed. I don’t remember if I forced myself to eat that morning or if my mother made a smoothie. When I have a flu or fever, I’m usually able to take care of myself, but that day I was completely bedridden. My mother suspected I had Dengue and asked if I wanted to go to the doctor, but the thought of having to get dressed, sit up, and wait somewhere sent me into more pain. Later that evening, I made myself go into the kitchen, and my mother was on the phone with one of my aunts, asking about a bunch of symptoms.

“You only have headache fever and joint pain; you don’t have have any rash or bleed?” she asked me.

“No rash, no bleeding other than my period restarting” I answered.

Alarm bells went off, and there was a bunch of cussing. I’ve been so used to having irregular periods—months without any and then one month with two cycles a week—since I started Jadelle, a birth control implant, that I didn’t realise that it was something to be alarmed about. It was heavier than usual, but not as heavy as the times I wasn’t on birth control. What I found out that day was that bleeding of any kind when you have Dengue is a warning sign—a big sign that I might need to be hospitalised. I had looked up the symptoms of Dengue earlier, and they had blood in vomit or stool, bleeding gums, or a bleeding nose. They failed to mention that having a heavier flow when you’re menstruating was a part of it, but apparently I’m expected to make that natural conclusion myself. 

I went to a private doctor the next day, and the pain wasn’t as bad as the day before. For context, “not as bad” means that the day before was a 10 and this new day was a 9 ¼. The wait wasn’t long; she asked me a bunch of questions about the symptoms I was experiencing, prescribed me some over-the-counter meds, and sent me to do tests for Dengue and my blood platelet count. The test came back positive for Dengue. The other test said my blood platelets were below the normal count when I did the blood test; I was considered for hospitalisation, but my doctor said that since it wasn’t as low, I should take the test again the following day. Hospitals in Jamaica don’t have a good rep; I’ve come across experiences of friends and family, occasional tweets about misconducts that don’t get resolved, complaints by healthcare workers about being burned out, news about staff shortages, and stories of malpractice that result in death. To say I was worried was an understatement.

After that, I was trying to get my blood platelets up and, being from ‘country’, home remedies in addition to over-the-counter meds was the common practice. My mom had strained papaya leaves from our backyard, which was to get the blood platelets up. It was the most bitter-tasting thing I had tried; it made Campari taste like Kool-Aid in comparison. I almost gagged every time I had to take it, which was after every meal over the week I had Dengue. To get rid of the aftertaste, I had to drink juice, have a mint, brush my teeth, and then rinse out my mouth with mouthwash. 

After drinking a bunch of fluids and forcing myself to eat three times a day with zero appetite, the next day my blood platelets were still low. However, I was still not sent to the hospital. On the fourth day, I was still sick, but the pain wasn’t as bad. My appetite had gone up, and I was able to walk around a bit. I still had to rest a lot and drink more fluids. Around day five, I was walking around fine, and my fever finally went away. 

I took the test to test my blood platelets, and then another to see if I still had Dengue. Dengue was no longer detected in my system, and my blood platelets were finally back to normal. I’m grateful I survived the experience and had the support of my family.  As someone who took the disease seriously, it reinforced the idea that there’s only so much an individual can do to mitigate against a public health crisis.