Ummmm... so I'm a terrible person. Hopefully it is not news to any of you by this point that I did not die in a Ghanaian hospital and that I enjoyed the rest of my stay immensely and I am now home and safe.
I don't know what I had that made me so sick. The doctors kept telling me that they were running tests and that they would give me results soon. Buuuut, on the last day I was there, they came in and asked me, "Did we ever draw blood for tests to find out what you have?" Um, I have no idea. Remember the part where I was delirious when I came in here? Anyway, they didn't know what was wrong with me and I'll never know. They did treat me for malaria, but they treat everyone for malaria just in case, so that doesn't mean much.
Isaac (now my wonderful boyfriend) came to visit multiple times a day which was more than fantastic. Furthermore, he brought food that wasn't the fish soup the hospital tried to get me to eat!
By the last day I was very fed up with being in the hospital and feeling quite ick. Finally some guy I had never seen before but who seemed to be in charge told me that he recommended I stay for another night but that I could go. So I left. And I instantly felt much much better! Because hospitals are happiness suckers. Also, they burned trash outside my window. And didn't have running water in the bathroom. Just saying.
On the bright side, my hospital bill, for three days stay, IV fluid for each day, and medication including malaria treatment totaled to less than $15. Whoa. Maybe Ghana's not such a bad place to be sick after all.
And after that I continued to have a wonderful stay in Ghana and would super like to go back very soon! Can we talk about how cold Maryland is in November?! Gross.