Monday, June 17, 2013

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

Peace! I come waving a white flag! I promise everything is alright!
I'm glad to say that the Dange has passed. For the most part. I'm a little tired still, but I'm back to work and happy as a cluff. Being a missionary confined to bed for a whole week is worse than all the pains in the world. I always thought that if I got sick on the mission it would be a good opportunity to read everything that I don't have enough time for normally, but with Dange I quickly learned that reading makes the nausea worse. So all I could do was lie there and be bored. *Sigh*  I'm so glad that's over! :D
    After a week in bed, the only real news I have has to do with Sister Mártir, from Cabo Verde off the coast of Africa. As I said in my last email, I was supposed to receive and train a new Sister from Africa here in Stella Mares and Sister Santana was supposed to receive and train another, and open a new area for Sisters in Itapetinga. BUT, the night before this change was to occur, we learned that my companion would no longer be serving in this mission and so Sister Santana and I are now in a trio with HER new greenie, here in Stella Mares until one of the visa-waiters in Mississippi gets her visa and can come be with me.
    Sister Mártir is tall and thin and very sleepy. I was so tired of sleeping this past week that I wanted to die, but there was nothing else for me to do and I WAS tired. But Sister Mártir, who is in perfect health, slept just as much as I did! It was strange. Poor Sister Santana had no one to talk to and went about our apartment doing good works, leaving loving notes on mirrors and under pillows, like the good fairy that she is. She also saw to it that I took my medicine and drank lots of water. God bless her! She's so pleasant and always laughing.
    And so, today was our P-day and I was feeling good enough that I even agreed to Sister Santana's P-day activity of choice: eating at McDonald's.
     Now, anyone who knows me knows my deep-rooted fear for this heart-attack factory of the U.S. But Brasilians love it and believe that it's high-quality meat. They sing praises to McDonald's and get excited when rich members will take them there for lunch. Sister Santana has been so good to me all week, I just couldn't say no to the golden arches in her big, brown eyes. 
    Having narrowly dodged a Dange Death, I willingly marched into a McMasacre. As I stared down a highly over-priced McFrightful and McDrink (orange juice?) with McFries, my stomach backed itself up against my spinal chord, crying, "No, no. nooooo!!!!" The sound of cows being butchered inhumanely filled my ears as I took a McBite. I closed my eyes in my concentrated attempt to forget the images I'd seen on "Food Inc."
     I now have a McStomachAche, and this is something I don't know if I'll survive. Mommy, I love you!
-Sister Whitaker
P.S. Thank you for all the prayers and fasting! You guys are the best!