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.