Peace Corps Shakes My Nerves And It Rattles My Brain

Peace Corps is hard.

One expects some hardships when jumping into an experience like this. Like when I got frostbite on my penis from jumping into icy-cold water in my first Peace Corps experience (that story costs a glass of wine). Discomfort here, confusion there. After a rocky first week, including being switched to a second host family and starting all over again, my stress levels were pretty high. When Friday finally rolled around, I looked for the best stress reliever I know, the one I’ve been without for far too long, my old friend, the gym. I found one 20 minutes away from my new home and bought a month’s membership for $13. I trained chest. It was magnificent! I felt like I was on top of the world! Thank you, Gym!

On my way home, I decide to buy 2-dozen eggs. Protein must be expensive in this country - or just not a priority because 95% of my calories since living with the first host family, and with the second, are carbohydrate based. I want meat! But I also don’t want to seem super princessy. So, I figure eggs are a good compromise. I fry up seven eggs, enjoy the long-absent protein in my belly, and go to bed. I consider showering before bed cause thats a good idea, but American showers are such a topic of conversation in our group and I don't want to seem so needy. My morning shower isn't so far away anyway. NBD.

I wake up on Saturday morning and feel like someone kicked me in the balls! I get up slowly, and carefully go downstairs to use the bathroom.

I look down and my immediate reaction is, "Awesome!" cause my special friend is huge! But then comes the "wait a minute" moment... It's only the left side that's huge - and it's also very red, and in lots of pain! Swollen like a painful boner! But just on one side. Hhhhh.... Well, shit.

I try to walk it off a bit, which is not the easiest thing to do. I ask my host mom if I can do some laundry. Not understanding each other very well, the simple, quick process is difficult and frustrating. Hanging my clothes to dry on the line outside, I pull my hood over my head and she mumbles something to the effect of, "some strong man you are." It's cold. 

I go back inside and it's still cold. A minute goes by and I realize I have a fever! I haven't had a fever in a long time. I also feel super tired so I go to my room and sleep.

I wake up at 2 pm and bust out my training manual to look for the Peace Corps doctor's number. It's not clearly laid out and after the first number didn't work, the second number got me one of the doctors who was off duty. He lectures me about calling him while he's off duty. I struggle to listen politely as he tells me to call someone else, but offers no number to call. I finally find the right doctor who recommends antibiotics. And showering.

The doctor has me convinced that I picked up something from the gym. Some funky bacteria on a bench - or on a barbell - and like an idiot, I forgot all my hazwaste training and didn't wash my hands properly enough before using the toilet before I went to bed. Embarrassing. How am I going to explain this?

It's 4 pm now, and I'm starving. I go downstairs and explain to my host mom that I have a fever and I'm super hungry. She asks about my condition as she's genuinely concerned. Ugh... How do I explain this? Very awkwardly, and uncomfortably, I tell her I have a skin infection. She asks where. Uhhhhh... All I can think about is how she's going to interpret my answer and all the assumptions she will make. I point to my lower abdomen, ashamed to tell the full truth for fear of further misunderstanding. She asks if I've been puking and I tell her it's just a skin infection. She asks if I'm nauseous and I tell her it's just a skin infection. She asks if I have diarrhea and I tell her it's just a skin infection. Please, may I eat something?! She tells me I'm sick because I ate so many eggs at one time. She makes me some carbs and as I'm eating, my host dad walks by. "Andrew has an infection," she informs him. "Why?" he responds, but doesn't wait to hear the answer. Host mom goes back to diagnosing me and interrogating me for more details. This is probably more uncomfortable than the physical discomfort. And then it gets more uncomfortable. My host sister walks in and her English is perfect, but she's only 15. An explanation of a skin infection on my dick would likely warrant further explanations that I'm just not ready to give. I claim fatigue and retire.

The next morning, Sunday, I join the family for breakfast. A big bowl of oatmeal, followed by a big bowl of potatoes. Dad informs me that he was a pilot for the military and a person can only eat two eggs in a day. He says if I eat 7 at one time, something bad happens to my stem cells in my spinal cord and that's why I have an infection. I explain that there's been a lot of research done on eggs and it's okay these days to eat eggs. He tells me I need balance. So, for lunch, I boil 6 eggs and eat them without shame. #takethat

My swelling, discoloration, and pain have only slightly subsided so I call the Peace Corps back and they send a driver to pick me up and take me to the capital for an examination. Host mom freaks out that they're taking me away and explains that she feels responsible. I try to tell her everything's going to be okay, to no avail. 

In Kyiv, the doctor examines me and says I have a twisted testicle (literally). She says we need to go to the urologist to confirm, but she thinks I need surgery. I'm "happy" that it isn't the funky skin infection from the gym that I thought it was, nor the stem cell mishap from eating seven eggs my host family thought it was. However, I don't seem able to enjoy this moment of relief with a potential nut surgery looming over me. 

We get to the urologist around 7 pm on Sunday night. She pokes and prods and grips and twists. And agrees. Fuck. As a final measure, we do a urine analysis and draw blood to check my numbers. While the tests are underway, why not head down to the ultrasound room for another scan. Some guy lubes up my sack and commences sound-scanning me for defects. My humility is long gone. I lie down and he goes to town. I stand up and he continues. I perform the deep breathing, coughing, and various other tricks so that the scan is complete. Both doctor and urologist receive and take calls while simultaneously staring at the screen. I feel like everyone in the hospital has fondled my balls, but I'm not enjoying it. Good news is, my testicle is not twisted and I'm going to survive. Hooray... 

I wipe up and we wait for the blood/urine results to roll in. We're sitting in the children's section and the doctor draws me a picture of the underwear I shouldn't be wearing, and then draws me a picture of the underwear I should be wearing - in crayon.

The urologist calls us back in to go over the test results. The doctor tells me I have an infection. No shit. She concludes that a lymph node has clogged and become infected as a result of an imbalanced immune system from being under such high stress and then suddenly relaxing. Thanks a lot, Gym. Some friend. Or was it the eggs messing with my stem cells?

I sleep in the Peace Corps office and a driver brings me back to my host family on Monday morning. We pass through a town called Brovary and it makes me laugh because of my aching brovaries. I try to explain this to the driver. I don't think it translates well. 

Back at home, my host mom wants all the answers and I want to give none. Host dad keeps checking on the temperature of my room and asking me if I'm cold. The awkward dial has been turned up to 11 all weekend. I'm in very good hands, literally and figuratively.  

Peace Corps is hard. If these antibiotics do their job, soon, I will be too. Week 1, complete. Week 2, I'm ready for you. #bringiton #igotthis #canihashtaginablog

Sorry, and you're welcome, for the lack of pictures with this post. #owmybrovaries

Good time to plug men's health? Did you know that 1 in 2 men will have cancer at some point in their lives? And that testicular cancer is the number one cancer in guys ages 15 to 34? Well, it's true.

I Was Made For Loving Peace Corps

I remember hearing a story about putting a frog in a pot of cold water and putting the pot on the stove. The story goes that the frog would just sit there, not bothered by the slowly increasing heat, as if it had nothing better to do. Maybe it enjoys the warmth? Did anyone ever think of that? Well, ultimately, I think the heat makes the frog not understand anything. It probably forgot where it was or how it got there. It might have pondered for a second why it ever decided to sit around in pot of water in the first place - until finally someone's eating its legs. So, here I am in Peace Corps.

I'm in a group of 77 rockin cool kids, who are spread all across the age, state, and experience spectrum. I've met some really wonderful people and had some fantastic conversations. One particular highlight for me came from an endearing southern boy who requested, "Yellow, please" when he played a Wild card in our game of Uno. 

Food has been pretty okay. Eggs and chicken seem common. They serve salad with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all of which are a cabbage or beet base, supplemented with carrots and/or onions. At one point, I sat at a table with four other guys who had never before had beets! Welcome to Ukraine! In fact, I think I've had more vegetables in this last week than I had in all of 2016. I can already feel myself losing my hard-earned weight gains.

My anxiety has almost completely faded away as I slowly come out of my shell. I've so far gone through a very poorly executed staging event in DC and a pretty well done orientation in Чернігів to having just landed in the care of my host family yesterday. More to come on that. 

They picked me up in a car and as we pulled away from my new friends, KISS was on the radio singing I Was Made For Loving You! And like a frog in warm water, it felt pretty good. I think I want my epitaph to one day read: It's not as hot in here as I thought it would be.

In The 40th Year, I Cried More, More, More!

The first time I had sex was amazing! As I explored the full extent of my imagination, all the mysteries I had only just heard about suddenly became real. It was everything I wanted it to be, and more! And less... It was over way too quickly, for both of us, and all I could think about was doing it again.

When I joined the Peace Corps in 2005, I was lost in life and searching for excitement and happiness. I found it in Bulgaria. I explored culture, language, poverty, richness, struggle, success, food, friendships, relationships, running, and most importantly, myself. I grew more in those two years of service than in any other segment of my life. During those two years of service, I hit super high highs, super low lows! It was the best thing I've ever done and despite the lengthy-sounding 27-month commitment, it finished too soon for both me and my hosting organization. As it had become so much a part of my personal development, I set a goal to serve again!

At the tender and naive age of 30, I decided that I would serve again just after getting married - like a Peace Corps honeymoon, and again in retirement, when I'm old. I did two short Peace Corps Response projects to tide me over while I waited for "The One" to sweep me off my feet - but she seems to be dragging hers... So, like I've learned so many times before, I adjusted my expectations and restructured my goals! I arbitrarily chose to celebrate my 40th birthday while serving in the Peace Corps! And I have begun my adventure to accomplish my new favorite arbitrary goal!

I'm all packed to go to Ukraine tomorrow with a great group, but I'm not ready at all! I suppose this is something that happens when one makes arbitrary goals. There were so many things left undone in Portland, partly (mostly) due to my own foolishness. I took a two-week trip back to Bulgaria within a month of my departure - as if I had on my list to say goodbye to my Bulgarian friends and family, when I should have spent that time with my American friends and family.

I went for my favorite Bulgarian holiday: Trifon Zarеzan. It's a day to celebrate wine. February 14th. The Bulgarians say you celebrate wine all day, and then celebrate love at night. Well, I just love everything about it.

But, I woke up that morning at 4 am unable to breathe! I wheeze-coughed a hole in the blockage for about 30 minutes until I could breathe normal again. Texted my sister with my symptoms when I had calmed down and she told me I had pneumonia and that I needed to go to the hospital. I waited for Iliyan to wake up cause I didn't know where the hospital was.

As we marched through the town square, the mayor was giving a speech. The gals were all dressed up in their traditional clothing. There was music playing. There were people dancing. Everyone was drinking wine. And we had to walk through all the action. I sunk. Got to the "emergency room" which was a concrete, drafty, cold cube. Waited there for 45 minutes before seeing the doctor. I had those 45 minutes to construct my sentences instead of mope about missing my favorite holiday so when I did get to see the doctor he was blown away by my Bulgarian.
"Your Bulgarian is really good!" he said (in Bulgarian).
"Thanks!" I responded, "yours is, too."
They all laughed.

He looked me over, listened to my parts, and concluded that my lungs were clear, I was not dying, I simply had laryngitis. He also told me that I wasn't contagious, that I could be around old people and infants - and that I could drink and celebrate the holiday! Well, hot damn!

I was pretty sure they wouldn't accept my Kaiser card for health insurance and I was really nervous about the cost of the office visit. I asked. The doctor looked at me, looked at Iliyan, looked back at me and told me not to worry about it. He then turned to Iliyan and said, "Have your mom bake me a cake."

With that, I was free to go enjoy the holiday! And I did.

The Peace Corps brings me so much happiness on so many different levels. Of course it's difficult and challenging at times, but so am I. And I'm pretty great!

There's nothing else like these experiences - and like the people I'm sure I'll meet. I'm quite ill-prepared for this trip. It's intimidating. My anxiety associated with this big, new chapter in the Words of Magnificence is through the roof! I think I know what I'm doing. I'm sure I'll get in there and start having fun - and this, too will be over far too quickly. Leaving me wanting more! I feel like I'm #winning at life, and I just can't get enough!