Malaria--Cory's Story

Since today is World Malaria Day I thought it fitting to post Cory's encounter with the disease. (This is a little different version than last years post.)

I remember when I first got malaria in Madagascar in 1999 on an outreach.
I was with a team of about ten people, and I was the only 'white' person. The outreach had started out fine, until I started to feel sick. I didn't know what it was, but I had the chills, stomach ache, and loss of appetite. After a day or so, I was getting worse and so we called for a doctor. He came and knew right away it was malaria. I was put on some medication and then later a nurse came to start giving me shots. I had to have three shots, once a day. The following days, I still couldn't eat much and I had to pretty much wobble to get to the bathroom (which was outside) since I felt dizzy getting up and was completely weak. During this period, my teammates had to leave for an overnight trip to the bush. I stayed back at the house where a family was hosting us. I remember, as I was resting, or trying to rest, one of the helper guys was peeking in on me through the window. I was thinking, what's up with this guy...I guess he doesn't see too many white people, especially sick ones. So once he left I closed all the windows.
I don't really remember how I slept that night, since I was in a foreign place, I didn't speak the language yet, I was alone in the house, and there was a guy peeking in on me...it must have been all those drugs that I was on.
It took a good couple of weeks before I could regain my strength and feel like a part of the team again, doing ministry.
That wasn't the only time that I had malaria, as it stays in your blood once you get it. I got it again, worse than the first time in 2000. My friends were even saying if I needed to go home earlier (I was due for a furlough two months before I got sick), they would totally release me.
The symptoms were worse than before and I really thought it was going to be my last days. I got so weak that I couldn't do anything...I needed help getting to the bathroom (which was a bucket as I was on the top floor of the house and couldn't go up and down the stairs) and needed help eating, though I didn't eat much because I couldn't keep anything down.
As I lay there in bed, not knowing what was going to happen, being away from my family...people started praying for me more and more. One of the people I was staying with was a 'shepherd' from her church in Madagascar. The ‘shepherds’ go to different villages and pray for the sick and cast out demons. So this woman took her Bible and stood up on the bed that I was laying on and started praying and rebuking the enemy. Seriously, the next day and the days after that, I started to slowly get better. I was able to keep some food down. After two weeks I was able to regain my strength. I think that was the hardest time: being sick and being away from home. But you know, even as I lay there sick, there was a peace also upon me, knowing that if that was my time, it wasn't in vain.
The malaria didn't stop there though, I got it again in Tamatave around 2002. This case of malaria wasn't as bad as the first two but I was to be hospitalized if I didn't get better. Well, not wanting to be in a hospital bed, I prayed for healing and that the medicines would work. Praise God, He healed me once again.