Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.
Yesterday Tim and I found ourselves hobbling around the Peruvian town of Huaraz, me on crutches, him looking pale and sickly with four cotton-ball bandages on his arms where the nurses stuck him with needles and IV's, and I couldn't help but think that whatever superpowers we may have once thought we had, they're certainly gone now.
I had to jump off to flip myself in the direction of my foot since I couldn't get it out right away, and from the pain and the angle that my leg had been forced in, I knew something was definitely wrong.
That night I was in a lot of pain, and I probably wouldn't have gotten any sleep if it wasn't for taking a few pain pills which we always carry with us. But I had no idea whether I broke my foot or not, and knew that we needed to get to a hospital with an x-ray machine as soon as possible to find out.
So the next day we headed to the nearest town of Caraz, passing through gorgeous Cañon del Pato on the way. Once in Caraz, I went straight to the hospital and got an x-ray. The doctor told me there was a broken bone, unfortunately, she did not seem confident in her assessment. To add to the confusion, she kept trying to call the doctor who makes casts and he wouldn't answer, and nobody knew if he was on vacation or when he would ever come back to work.
Not even two hours away, and backdropped by white-capped mountains, Huaraz's hospital seemed to be much better equipped than the one in Caraz. And after a new set of x-rays, the doctor in Huaraz confirmed that I did not have a broken bone, and it was just a pulled muscle. Even so, I would need to stay off my foot for at least 10 days. That was a lot better than a month or two in a cast, so I was very thankful for this second opinion, and after we found a comfortable hotel just down the street from the hospital, it seemed that everything was going to be alright.
This was the fourth fever he's had this year, and it was a bad one. Without a wink of sleep, he spent the night mumbling incoherently and complaining of pain wracking his head, stomach, and back. So yesterday we spent the morning at the hospital conveniently down the street from us, and after many tests, we learned that it's not malaria (thank goodness!) but that he could have Typhoid Fever.
Typhoid Fever is actually what happens when you get salmonella. And although it can be quite miserable and severe if untreated, and it can even lead to death, it's also easily treated with a round of antibiotics.
I'm not sure how much longer we'll stay here, surely until we are both fully recovered, but once we feel well-enough, we'll be headed into the mountains where we'll try to gain some of our superpowers back.