The Tragic Tale of Deysi

So I guess in the Peace Corps, you can never really know what it is that will challenge you. I certainly never expected that my main problems (so far) would be caused by a little cat.

I should premise by saying that I have always been a big animal lover, more so than the other members of my family. But my mom and other sister have asthma and have always been allergic to cats and most dogs. As a little girl, I went through a “kitten phase”, when I just didn’t think I could live without having a kitten. Well, somehow I survived. In college, when I was finally on my own, I resisted the very strong temptation to get a cat or a dog because I knew afterwards I would want to travel, and maybe do the Peace Corps. After graduation, I moved to Boston and did two years of AmeriCorps... no pets possible there (and I was still thinking about PC). Then all that resistance to temptation finally paid off as I, of course, finally DID apply to the Peace Corps.

But when I got to Guatemala, I realized that lots of volunteers get pets here. My little “apartment” in the family complex was obviously not dog-friendly. But when some volunteers sent out an e-mail advertising obscenely adorable kittens that their cat just had, I thought, “Why not?” If there was a tiny voice in my head that said, “You have asthma now, that’s why not,” I ignored it. I assured myself that I was NOT allergic to cats because I had lived with a roommate for a year that had 2 cats, so why would I be allergic to cats now?

So I replied to the e-mail and made the very long trip to these volunteers’ site in San Marcos with my cardboard box. Then I made the very long trip back (5 hours in all), with a very upset kitten scratching at the cardboard box and meowing the whole time. She spent the entire first day in her new home under the bed. But slowly she began venturing out and would let me pet her and soon enough, I was her best pal. I called her “Deysi” because I had a couple students named that and liked the Guatemalan spelling. She’d follow me around and was the perfect combination of cuddly and playful (in my opinion). She of course had some annoying habits (like tearing up the curtains and jumping in the big fake plant pot and getting dirt everywhere), but overall I felt a lot less lonely with her around. I found that I didn’t want to leave home as much (to visit Xela or other volunteers), and was content hanging out, baking or reading, with her for company. I planned on getting a cat carrier and taking her with me after the Peace Corps, wherever I should go. I figured if she could handle 5 hours in a camioneta in a cardboard box, she could handle whatever else might come our way. She was my first pet.

But of course the tale doesn’t end there, cuz then it wouldn’t be “tragic”. At first, I seemed fine health-wise, just a little sniffly. But I didn’t think anything of it because I’m always getting colds and the rainy season had just started. The sniffles didn’t go away, and I had a night of bad asthma attacks, but I continued to blame the rain. And I decided to kick her out of my room at night, just in case. I also thought about asking the nurses to put me on allergy meds. I figured whatever happened, I could manage it with medication. She didn’t seem to be making me very sick, and I thought allergy pills would take care of the sniffles.

But I’m new to asthma (I was diagnosed in February) and didn’t know much about how it works. My mom explained to me later that a person with asthma can push themselves over the edge, can over-expose themselves to an allergen and become even more sensitive and allergic. Apparently, I hit a point where I became very allergic to Deysi.

One night I woke up at 3 a.m. with my ears ringing. I slowly realized that I was very short of breath-- having an asthma attack. It wasn’t the first time I’ve awoken to attacks at night, but usually a puff or two of the inhaler and I’m fine. This time was different. I puffed on the inhaler, but my breaths continued to get only shorter and shorter. I developed a painful pressure in my chest. I sat in the dark, so tired but unable to sleep, listened to my gasping breaths, wondering if at any moment they would just stop completely. I puffed again and again on the inhaler. It didn’t help at all. Finally at 5 a.m., frightened, I called the Peace Corps on-duty nurse. She told me I needed to get to the hospital. I woke my host brother who has a car, but while he was getting ready, slowing my breathing returned to normal. The nurse still thought I should get to Xela and see the doctor as soon as possible. In the hospital they put me on a nebulizer and took a bunch of tests. I stayed for the day, reading in bed, until the results were in and they let me go with a prescription for allergy pills. I knew I would have to give up my cat.

The next night the attacks started at 11 p.m. I woke up my host family and asked to stay in their part of the house, in a spare bedroom, to be away from all the cat hair, hoping that would help. The attacks did not cease, and an hour later I called the nurse again. She suggested a hot shower, and after taking a long, blissfully hot shower, my breathing normalized again and I went to bed. Unfortunately, the attacks started again soon after. They weren’t as severe as the previous night, and I was able to snatch bits of uncomfortable sleep in between. But that was the worst night of my Peace Corps experience. I cried a lot, which I am certain did not help the attacks, sad about my cat, scared, and very physically uncomfortable. I knew I could not live like this. My host family had cats, and I wondered, even if I got rid of my cat, would this continue? My host family is such a bit part of my life here, and in this community, where people do not visit each other’s houses casually, your family is your social network. I wasn’t sure I’d be willing to move, or even find a place without allergens. I thought, if this continues, I am going home. I’m done here. The attacks didn’t stop until 7 a.m.

The next day, one the nurse’s orders, I started the process of scouring my house. I avoided Deysi and eventually brought her downstairs, which made us both very miserable. She was very upset to be apart from me, and hid all day, terrified of the host family’s dog and cats and all the new people around. I dusted and scrubbed walls and tore off curtains and blankets and the clothes that hang in my hallway-- everything that she had touched. I didn’t have asthma attacks, but I had an ache in my chest that hurt every time I breathed. I wrote an e-mail on my computer advertising a free cat, to send out to volunteers. I caught the afternoon bus into Xela to wash the mountain of laundry. In Xela, I called the nurse again, worried about the chest pain and the tightness in my throat, scared that I would just have another rough night. She listened, and called the doctor who agreed to see me. They gave me the nebulizer, which is like a breath of the sweetest and freshest air you’ve ever tasted (to an asthmatic, anyway), and decided to let me stay the night. It was bliss, which is a strange thing to say of a night in the hospital. I had regular doses of the nebulizer, an oxygenated room, and I could sleep the night without fear.

The next day I avoided Deysi again and contacted a volunteer that had agreed to cat-sit and made arrangements to drop her off the next day. The morning of the drop-off, I let myself pet her again, thinking it might be my last day with her, and took her on my lap on the camioneta, even though by now contact with her immediately gave me a headache and the sniffles. I was sad, but also relieved, knowing how miserable the last couple of days had been for the both of us. And I was lucky. On my way back, a volunteer called responding to the e-mail. She’d take her in a couple of weeks.

I was also lucky in the sense that that week was the All-Volunteer Conference, a professional development conference and 4th of July Party, the only time all year that all the volunteers in the country get together. I arrived a day early to visit a breathing specialist in the Capital, and finally I felt like I was talking to someone that really understood my condition and had some real answers for me. He gave me new medications, explained all that I didn’t understand, and even gave me something to take in an emergency and a tool to gauge my breathing. And the next few days of socializing and fun and being with my American friends was exactly what I needed to move on from all that had happened. And I only had a couple asthma attacks.

Last Saturday, a week later, was the last step of the Deysi saga. I picked her up at the cat-sitter’s house and took her on a camioneta for 3 hours on my lap, where she was terrified and meowed frantically and tried to hide under my arms. But when she finally got to her new home, she relaxed immediately and seemed content. And I know that the volunteer that took her will be a great owner. I am so fortunate that it all resolved itself so well. The house is very quiet, I am alone again, and when I think of her and that horrible week, it gives me a pang. But at least I finally had my cat, if only for a little while.