I had heard of people getting altitude sickness while climbing Mt. Everest and Mt. Kilimanjaro, you know, really high elevations. I never imagined I'd get it near the Salt Flats in Bolivia. Sure, I can see getting it in La Paz at 10,000-14,000 feet, but I wasn't worried about the Salt Flats. Salt Flats... even their name implies something, well, flat... However, on the way to the Salt Flats (through the Andes mountains from Tupiza to Uyuni, 9,000 feet), I started to experience headaches and motion sickness. I drank more water. Mark and I were both having strange dreams, but I reasoned that this was normal at this elevation, after all, when we lived at 10,000 feet we had hardly slept, and when we did, our dreams were strange. Back in those days, we were thin because we had no appetite, a side effect I was perfectly fine with. Things have changed since we moved to sea level and enrolled in grad school...but I digress.
We signed up for a 3 day tour of the Salt Flats, and took off into the mountains. Day 1 and 2 were pretty good. We cruised the mountains checking out lagoons (complete with flamingos who hung out on the icy lakes- crazy, right?!).
We stayed at Salt Hotels- not the real "Salt Hotel" on the lake, because they were built illegally and dump sewage into the lake, but another hotel made of salt, just off the lake. Everything was made out of salt: the chairs, the tables, the beds, the walls, the floor, everything.
On Day 2, we climbed in elevation to 14,700 feet. Our driver gave us coca leaves to chew on to help with the altitude. I still felt fine as we went back down to 13,200 feet for the night. Sure, people told us it would be cold, but I wasn't too worried because our driver, France, said he'd see about getting us some extra blankets. Also, we had all agreed to spoon for the night. Mark and I cuddled up into a twin sized bed.
At about midnight, I woke up in a hot sweat. I was having horrible dreams about a hospital in Grand Junction, Colorado catching on fire and falling over like the twin towers. I have family that works there so it was especially distressing. The blankets were suffocating me. I had to get free of them, but I was so winded, I could barely climb out of my sleeping bag. I told myself to stay calm. After I caught my breath, I abandoned the layers of blankets and tore off my hat, scarf, mittens, fleece jacket, and two sweaters so that I was down to my cuddle duds (thermals). I had to do it in stages because I couldn't catch my breath. My stomach ached from the pressure. I felt like a cartoon image of a character that had been inflated with air and was about to explode. I wondered if anyone would hear me if I belched, but reasoned that with 3 people snoring, no one would notice. It was so cold out that we could see our breath, but I couldn't get cooled down. I was wide awake and laid there exposed to the cold for the next three hours. When the group woke up at 5:30am, we looked outside and saw everything covered in snow.
I felt a little nauseas and achy at breakfast, but chalked it up to a bad night's rest. Today would be better. We hopped into the Land Rover and the motion sickness set back in. Mark realized that I was experiencing altitude sickness, so he gave me a 1/2 tablet of some pills (Delta?) we had picked up the day earlier at a small market (it's so easy to get pills here). By the time we reached the lagoons, I could barely walk. I dreamed of kicking everyone out of the Land Rover, wrapping up in a warm blanket, and sleeping for a few days. The lagoon was beautiful (complete with llamas and bells around their necks and red ribbons on their ears), but I just wanted to sleep and feel better. Mark and I explored to find a "bano natural" (frequent urination is a side effect of the pills), and then we camped out on a rock and waited for the group to return for lunch.
It was a peaceful spot to rest, but I still felt horrible. When the group returned, I wasn't interested in lunch, but forced myself to have a small plate of tuna, tomatoes and cucumbers and rice. Owen, one of the Australians in our group suggested some Sorojchi pills he took in Peru. I took one and about 30 minutes later, was feeling a lot better. By the time we arrived in the next pueblo, I felt like I was starving. While the rest of the group drank hot chocolate, I put down two egg sandwiches. This, too, was a side effect of the medication, increased appetite. I hated being manipulated by pills, but I felt so achy and nauseas that I was willing to do about anything to feel better. The Sorojchi pills were supposed to last 24 hours, but 5 hours later, I felt like crap again, to the point that I couldn't fathom doing anything except crawling into bed to rest... and maybe crying a little about missing our 1:00 am train to Ururu. It was only a $14 loss, but the next one wasn't coming for another three days, and when you're sick, everything seems like "the worst." Mark tried to peddle some tablets 4 young English doctors had given us (Acetazolamida), but I didn't want to overdose on anything, so I walked (slowly) to the internet cafe and researched the pills I'd been taking and the pill I was considering. It turns out the 24 hour one from Peru was little more than aspirin and caffeine, so it didn't look like a problem. I swallowed the new 250mg tablet and slept for the next 15 hours. By noon the next day, I still felt somewhat repulsed by food, and achy, but I felt well enough to get up, brush my teeth, put on my face (not wash it... c'mon, that's still asking a lot), and walk to an Internet cafe (you know, since it was only a block away). So, yeah, I didn't expect it, but it turns out I'm susceptible to altitude sickness. I just hope it doesn't follow me to La Paz and Macchu Piccu, because there aren't a lot of places along the way to go down in elevation, which means I'll be resigned to resting in a chilly cold bedroom until the altitude sickness goes away.
Posted with Blogsy
No comments:
Post a Comment