Hazmat suits and miracles.

I knew we were sick, I just didn’t know how sick. 

I’m not sure knowing would have changed anything though.  We had been told to avoid any official personnel.  Government people, police, and medical officials were definitely to be avoided.  That was proving difficult as I opened my hotel door, to a hallway full of hazmat-wearing officials.  They knew my name.  They knew I was sick.  And they wanted to take us to an undisclosed location to quarantine.  

I argued at first.  “In America, 100 degrees is not qualified as a fever”.    

I played dumb.  “I am not sure where my traveling companions are…it’s just me”.  

I bargained.  “I will come downstairs with you if I may use a phone to call the United States”.  

And finally, when it seemed as though there were no other options, I agreed to get in the back of their ambulance and go with them.  

It turns out, the CDC in this particular country is first-rate.  The day before a passenger sitting a row ahead of us on our flight from the US checked himself into the hospital.  He tested positive for H1N1 – or swine flu.  And the CDC kicked into action.  They detained and quarantined anyone sitting within a couple of rows of patient zero.  Because we were the first of our group to return to a registered hotel and check in using our passports, we were the first to be picked up.

After a quick call to my contact in the United States, “Hello…I am being picked up by some government officials.  No, they cannot tell me where we are going.  Yes, I will try to call you with more information.  Can you please let the other parents know?  And maybe call the embassy?”, I go back to the other three students in my group and let them know what is happening.  Until now, I have kept the CDC officials busy only talking with me and have asked them not to interrupt the sleep of my “colleagues”.  

We knew we were sick, but we didn’t want to say it out loud. Really, I thought we had altitude sickness mixed with some dehydration. I thought our bodies were still adjusting to the 8,000-foot elevation. We weren’t one hundred percent why we were being picked up – after all, this country wasn’t known for its hospitality to Christians.  We deposited all evidence of the local missionaries into the bathroom toilets and deleted records from our phones.  We buried the two bibles deep into our bags – this wasn’t part of the plan and we weren’t sure what to do with them.

We rode down in the elevators and I threw up right before the doors opened.  “Just leave it,” I said as we walked out.  “I don’t want them to know that I know that I’m sick”.  The hazmat suits swarmed around us; we put on surgical gowns, hospital booties, masks, and hair nets.  They ushered us into the waiting ambulance with its flashing lights eerily lighting up the whole street.  I asked again where we were going, but at this time, the translator was no longer with us and no one could understand my question.  

We arrived in the dark at a building with a row of doctors and nurses outside waiting for us.  This is still one of the most confusing parts of my memory.  I am sure it must not have been as dramatic as I remember, but it was dark and I was scared and apparently I had swine flu.  I remember being rushed inside a harshly lit building with someone yelling, BOYS ON ONE SIDE AND GIRLS OVER HERE.  I tried to say, “They told me we would be kept together”.  But no one was listening. 

In the end, it turned out alright.  The boys were simply on one side of the building and the girls were on the other side.  In between the two corridors was a hallway meant for official personnel only.  There was a red line that meant we were not to cross the threshold.  We were each given a room with a bed and a bathroom.  There was a sliding window in our rooms where they could serve our food without being exposed to us.

As chaotic as that memory feels, I am sure it was quite orderly and calm in comparison to what it could have been.  I didn’t know it yet, but in the days to come, I would thank God for bringing us to such a facility with access to much-needed medical care for much of our group.

Of the eleven of us, nine would test positive for H1N1.  One would need extensive care for complications related to H1N1 and dysentery.  It certainly wasn’t the trip we had planned for.  In fact, all the things we had discussed not doing seemed to be happening.  But, somehow, in the midst of all this, we were able to share God’s hope with the very people we were supposed to be avoiding.  Over the course of the eleven days we were quarantined, doctors and nurses would ask us questions:  “Why did you come here, really?  Why do you seem so happy even when you are so sick?”  

I wonder sometimes if they ever think about that time when eleven Christians from America were quarantined on their watch?  If it impacted them in the same way it affected us?  Was it just another day at work?  Or did God plant something deep in their hearts during those days?  I don’t know if we will ever know on this side of heaven.  But, we do know that God was with us.  He was actually protecting us.  And he brought us home safely – which still feels rather miraculous.