Infected for the Holidays?

My wife and I probably say the word “malaria” on a daily basis more than the average working couple in America. It’s part of our overall portfolios at work.  Emily’s a public health professional and I work in public relations on global issues, including disease. But the word never really hit me until I heard myself talking to a doctor’s office saying, “I need you to test my wife for malaria.” All of the sudden, a disease that we combat in refugee camps was a disease I was fighting in my living room. My Christmas had just been infected.
Emily had been in Uganda a few days earlier. It was a quick business trip (and one of a few trips she’d taken to Africa this year). I was so happy she was back for the holidays, and we were busy preparing for all the usual traditions: getting the house ready for visitors, planning on doing some caroling, preparing soup and bread for our annual December 24 meal, and wrapping last-minute gifts.  Emily, as a room mother for our daughter’s class, was also getting ready for the big end-of-year party at our local elementary school. I knew something was wrong when she couldn’t get out of bed yesterday morning. For those who know my wife, you know that hers is a renewable energy source that most multi-national corporations would envy. Nothing keeps her down.

Since she was displaying signs of malaria, we knew what we had to do. We got her to a clinic, started the battery of tests, and while we waited did what most couples do when something like this happens: we triaged the day.  I took the duty at school as stand-in room mother while Emily made her way back from the doctor. In the meantime, however, exhaustion got the best of her and she lost her cell phone. I found myself out and about, with no connection to my wife, and half convinced that she had a long anti-malarial treatment in front of her.

For those few hours, a lot changed in my view of the disease.  For those who want to know more about it, there are easy-to-learn facts here:  The bottom line is that, while the U.S. got rid of Malaria decades ago, malaria still kills people around the world at an alarming rate. Every 60 seconds, a child dies from malaria in sub-Saharan Africa. These aren’t statistics.  These are people. I have been to the refugee camps and countries where malaria kills, as has Emily. We’ve met people who know the threat of malaria is more than a statistic – it is real.

And while it is preventable and treatable, even in Africa, I knew that my reality was completely different from a husband and father living this scenario half way around the world. My thoughts wandered to the man who, on December 22, had just learned that his wife had been infected withmalaria somewhere in Africa, perhaps even in Uganda. I was sending my wife to a nearby clinic that was open, stocked with medicines, capable of administering tests, and ready to connect her case with any others around the country. I had the means to protect her and my family if necessary. I became acutely aware of how fortunate I am – and how much more I could do to help.

A few days earlier I made a donation to Nothing But Nets, a campaign that I supported even before joining the United Nations Foundation. With a modest donation of $10, this campaign helps send a bed net to Africa  so that families can avoid the mosquitoes that spread malaria.  My donation through Crowdrise was part of a contest with Jonah Hill to help get enough donations to drive a major gift from others. On Wednesday it was something I thought was important and cool. On Thursday, it became something urgent and vital.

Emily’s tests came back negative.  She doesn’t have malaria.  She did, it appears, bring back something nasty from her trip to Africa but it should be gone within a few days with some good medicine and some rest.  But she had infected our home, nonetheless, with an acute awareness of a disease that still exists, that kills people, and that we all can do something to fight. There’s a husband in Africa today that won’t be as fortunate. If you are looking to make a difference this holiday season, give $10 if you’ve got it. That father in Africa is counting on it. It’s a good way to infect your holiday.