Back in my secondary school days, I had a real struggle when it came to taking medicine. I absolutely hated it. I wasn’t used to swallowing pills, and sometimes, I ended up chewing them because I didn’t know how to swallow them all at once, which was honestly a horrible experience. Just imagine chewing an antibiotic capsule - it's as digusting as it sounds! Those days were tough whenever I fell sick, especially since I didn’t know how to handle medication.
The funny thing is, I rarely got sick. But when I did, it was always malaria. I avoided the clinic as much as possible, even on the days when i had malaria, because I knew it would lead to more pills that I didn’t want to take. But there were times when the malaria symptoms would get so bad that I couldn’t ignore it, and eventually, I’d have no choice but to go see the school nurse or even visit a doctor if I was at home.
One particular incident stands out in my memory. I was in school and felt that all-too-familiar fever coming on. I knew it was malaria again, but as usual, I didn’t want to visit the clinic. I tried to shake it off until my hostel master noticed how unwell I looked and forced me to go to the clinic.
So, there I was, sitting in a line with other students, waiting for the nurse to call me in. When it was finally my turn, I explained my symptoms, and after a few checks, the nurse prescribed some malaria medication to take in the morning, afternoon, and or even night.
One of the medicines I was given was chloroquine, a drug commonly used to treat malaria. I had no idea what it was or how it would affect me, so I just went along with the nurse’s instructions. That night, I took the chloroquine alongside other pills and went to bed, hoping for a good night sleep.
But I wasn’t ready for what happened next. Sometime after midnight, I woke up with this horrible itching all over my body. At first, I thought maybe a mosquito had bitten me, but the itching didn’t stop; in fact, it got worse by the second. I was scratching myself frantically, and the sensation was so intense that sleep became impossible for me.
The itching was so unbearable that I ended up knocking on my hostel master’s door in the middle of the night, to atleast feel relieved. Thankfully, he was really understanding. He gave me a cream to apply and suggested dusting powder to help ease the itching. It helped a bit, but I was still far from comfortable. I remember regretting ever going to the clinic that day – if I had known what was in store for me, I would’ve tried to not even reach there at all.
After like hours of scratching and trying to get comfortable, I eventually managed to fall asleep, though I think I scratched myself even to my sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I felt a lot better, but I knew I needed to go back to the clinic and let them know what had happened.
When I explained the whole situation to the nurse, she took note of my reaction and added it to my hospital file that I was allergic to chloroquine. She assured me they’d avoid prescribing it to me in the future, and I was relieved to know I wouldn’t have to go through that nightmare again.
Looking back, it was a pretty intense experience. But it taught me a valuable lesson about allergies and paying attention to what medications I’m taking. To this day, I’m always careful to mention that I’m allergic to chloroquine, and I’m definitely more cautious about taking medicine in general to avoid any futher reactions.