How Dengue Fever Taught Me a Lesson of Love and Humility

My mission trip to the Dominican Republic this last Fall was amazing!  I have met some of the most wonderful people and built some relationships that are sure to last a lifetime.  I experienced different languages, food, cultural norms and some of the most scenic vistas on earth.  But it wasn’t all mountains, oceans and beaches. 
 
Some of you may know that about halfway into my 10-week mission, I contracted dengue fever, a disease that is spread by the Aedes Aegypti mosquito.  The disease was spreading at an epidemic rate across the nation and I was among more than 6,000 who have been affected so far.  Thank God, I had the classic type which offers great hope of recovery after a short time as opposed to the more serious hemorrhagic variety.
 
Its crazy, at first, I didn’t realize I had it.  I thought I was suffering from eating food that didn’t agree with me.  However, the fever that accompanied my symptoms did not seem to want to break in spite of steady doses of the extra strength acetaminophen I fed myself.  I finally went to the free hospital which is literally walking distance from the mission house where I stayed.  I went for lab tests the first day and got the confirming diagnosis of dengue.  I returned for what I thought would be a simple dose of IV fluids for the purpose of treating dehydration caused by the fever and continual loss of natural fluids, but after talking to the doctor and sharing my symptoms, I heard the dreaded words; “Admit her!”
 
In spite of my pleas for a different treatment option, I was driven home to get a pillow and blanket- (the hospital didn’t always have such luxuries) as well as night gowns, toothbrush and any other necessities.  Upon my return, I was wheeled to the infirmary where I entered a room simply marked “niña”.   I learned that no one was allowed to stay in the hospital alone.  This was not a place with a handy “call button” that could be pushed when a nurse was needed.  Someone, a friend or family member would have to stay with the patient day and night to assist or to call for professional help when needed. It was in this place, with bars on the windows and green mats on the bed; such as I had seen in the county jail during my ministry visits in Illinois, I would spend my time healing and learning a lesson of love, sacrifice and humility.
 
While I struggled to get “comfortably” settled in this strange new environment, Veronica made herself at home and at my service.  “Siempre a su orden” she would often say.  You would have thought she was staying at the Hilton.  She made no complaints as she spread a sheet over the green mat and proceeded to stretch out on it for the night. If I even moved, she jumped up to see if I needed anything which I often did.  The IV drip kept me running to the bathroom through the night and with one hand and a fever still raging, I absolutely needed the help.
 
She wasn’t the only one.  Cherilyn, the mission’s director and senior pastor, Pastora Anna, Doña Digna, Louisa, Alexandra, and others took shifts, brought food and water and stayed to keep me company.  Anna, who prayed with me gave me this reminder. “You have many questions, but one thing is needful.  God is sovereign and he is here with you!” 
 
I can’t thank God enough for those powerful words and these precious ladies who showed such love and humility at a time I needed it most.  Now, well past the recovery phase of the disease, I look back on that time not as a set-back to the mission but as proof that God is indeed able to work all things together for the good.
 
I was soon able to return to teaching English to my 5th and 6th grade students at the Christian School where I served, as well as to the community members who came to the night classes I offered; however, looking back, my time in the hospital was a time for the teacher to become the student. There, in the midst of dengue, I learned that love is the most effective teacher!