It takes two weeks to know if you contracted Marburg or not, which is to say, you spend two weeks wondering if they're your last.
That little wound: harmless paper cut, or total human liquefaction?
When I'm in a tornado, it's just scary for a few minutes. When I was in Hurricane Katrina, it was scary for a day. There is nothing scarier than walking around for weeks on end without knowing if you're staring violent, organ-juicing death in the face. At least you know if people are shooting at you or a volcano is erupting. With a possible diagnosis like Marburg hanging over your head, every weird pain, tummy gurgle, or itch becomes an omen. I could have been the walking dead. And not one of the main cast, either -- like one of Hershel's red-shirt kids.
Via The Treasure
"Half of us will turn your spleen into chunky soup, the rest will just crap on your head. Happy guessing."
Later, I was climbing over a boiling lake, which was fairly breezy. The seemingly deadly stunt was easy compared to the bug bite I got while doing it. A slight screw-up and I would have been human Cup Noodles, but it's never the obvious hazards that get you. It was the little thing I wasn't paying attention to -- a mosquito -- that almost killed me during that adventure. The mosquito that bit me had dengue fever. It sent me to the emergency room for a while, hallucinating with a fever of 104, then eventually I ended up at the special Tropical Diseases Unit. Boiling lakes? Sure, whatever. Cute little flying rodents and miniscule insects? That's the hardcore stuff.