Tag Archives: sick

Dawah By Dong*

In this title I am talking about the men who are intent on spreading Islam with their man-parts, by dating and eventually converting poor, misguided women in the West.

I hesitated to write this post, despite my passion on the subject, because I, myself, was involved with a Muslim man when I converted to Islam. I’ve mentioned this before and am mentioning it again in the interest of full disclosure. I didn’t convert for this man, however, as evidenced by the fact that I rejected his marriage proposals, broke up with him soon after converting, and moved out of state to escape him, my family, and my old life in order to re-discover myself in my new, chosen, identity.  I had also been bumping up against, discovering, and delving into Islam for four years before this relationship so the brother was not my first introduction to the religion. InshAllah he will get reward though because he did help me cross that final threshold.

I also hesitated because I anticipate that this will be, possibly, an offensive topic for many out there because I very rarely, and I mean rarely, meet women who converted on their own, without being in a relationship, or already being married to a Muslim man. I identify myself as someone who came into Islam by myself, although in fact I do wallow in a gray area between due to this relationship. I can neither disregard nor completely credit the contribution of this brother for my being Muslim. But I generally count the two years between my conversion and my marriage as sufficient to identify myself as someone who came into Islam without being married to a Muslim man. You may disagree with that as you wish.

Many, many converts cannot say the same thing though, and I fear that I will marginalize or degrade their decision to convert by what I want to say in this post. I do not mean to. There is nothing to say that your Islam is less valuable because you married your husband before, or soon after, you converted.

My object of disdain is the Muslim man who dates easy, empty-headed women and then uses the leverage of “I can’t marry you because you’re not Muslim” to break it off when the poor girl gets too clingy. And who justifies his rutting around by saying that he believes she is interested in Islam and he wants to guide her. But then uses aforementioned excuse to break it off when he tires of shagging her.

And there are men who date women who aren’t even interested in Islam and then, when both are invested in the relationship, put pressure on their girlfriends to convert because he won’t marry, and make babies with, a non-Muslim. This is a very sad and unfortunate situation because the women are forced to choose between losing the man that they love or converting to a religion they don’t believe in.

I would be surprised if you, the reader (assuming that you are Muslim and you travel in Muslim circles,)  had never known of, or heard of, a situation where this had happened. The woman breaks down and “converts,” the man marries her, they pop out a few kids and 10 years down the road the woman is miserably unhappy with being a Muslim, covering, and dealing with the expectations so they divorce. It’s a bitter divorce, and of course she leaves Islam, and a year later the kids are going to Friday prayer with dad and Sunday school with mom.

This is why dawah by dong is fatally flawed even though it is the primary method by which many women convert.

Obviously I am ignoring the simple fact that offering his man-parts to ‘ze ladies’ is haraam. I’m ignoring it simply because they do.

I don’t know how many times I’ve seen Muslim men with non-Muslim women. And very, very, very few of them plan on marrying these women. They’re just playing around until they save enough plata to bag a virgin from their home country. The kufar women are simply for getting his rocks off before then. Sometimes the man is afraid enough of Allah that he marries the chick Islamically so that the sexy-times are not a sin, but the final outcome is the same.

Raise your hand if you’re a non-Muslim and you’ve heard that Muslim men are skeezes? Heck, raise your hand if you’re Muslim and you’ve heard, or seen, that Muslim men are skeezes?

*raises hand*

But behind this are a number, a large number, of women who met their husbands at work/school, became romantically involved, learned about Islam, converted, married, spawned, and are living happily ever after as content Muslimahs. MashAllah.

But oh, oh, how many failures there are. How many men there are who use it as an excuse. Even as an excuse to marry a SECOND wife. To “help” some woman who is thinking about converting, or recently converted, stay on the path.

Because God knows that we women aren’t strong enough to keep a religion without a man around to remind us.

And what a noble cause this gentleman is embarking on: saving the converts of the world, four women at  a time.

Spreading the good word of Islam with his “sword.”

Enough.

Islam is beautiful enough to spread without blackmailing a woman into it.

Women are competent enough to discover how to be a good Muslim without a man to teach her.

And if you are interested in Islam, contact a local mosque. Or go ahead and ask that dreamy-eyed brown boy in your organic chem class about Islam but don’t, do not, absolutely do not tie YOUR Islam to him or anyone else.

Make it your own. And then marry him.

But this method of spreading Islam needs to stop.

Though I doubt it ever will.

I’d flay the skin off my son if I ever caught him doing this, although I would support him giving a Quran, advice, or the number to the local masjid to the pretty young thing who approached him in organic chem.

But I’d make sure she wanted Islam for herself before I consented to a marriage.

Brothers, be responsible.

Ladies, be smart.

And please forgive me if I have offended anyone, it wasn’t my intention. I just had to get this off of my chest.

 

 

*I apologize for such a crude way of putting it, but its apt.

 

Addendum: There are many good, righteous brothers who seek to marry converts because they like the idea that a woman, who was interested in Islam, became a Muslim and they want the reward of helping her learn Islam. Sometimes they help a woman, who has approached them with questions, and the relationship becomes romantic before she converts and after she does they then marry. This situation, from my experience, is the majority of the cases of how women convert to Islam. Its close to the line but doesn’t cross it, and may Allah bless them.

My husband married me after I had been Muslim for 2 years and he is happy to say this whenever anyone asks. Alhumdulillah.

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Bored But Better

I think I’m rounding the homestretch on this stomach flu. Thank GOD. Now if only I could sleep tonight, that would be brilliant.

Second accent I’ve heard more often here in Egypt than anywhere else is Australian. It seems random to me, but I think thats mainly because while we do occasionally get the odd British show stateside we almost never get any Australian shows.

I am now watching some Aussie chef on Fatafeat and he’s killing me by cooking a prime rib with horseradish butter. I’m about ready to hunt my own cow for a flippin’ steak.

Hint to family: My first dinner home really SHOULD be something that involves prime rib.

drool

Edit: He’s now cooking seafood and I’m back to being nauseous. Must turn off food show.

The Diary of an Invalid

It sucks being sick enough to not want to move but not sick enough to be constantly sleeping and/or out of it. It just means I’m sitting here flipping through channels of nothings-on-tv and waiting while the wireless floats in and out. So annoying.

Sometimes I weird myself out. Like more and more now the little narrator voice in my head has a British accent. I suck at accents, I couldn’t fake an accent other than my own to save my life but years and years of foreign language acquisition has made me easily succeptible to changing my accent to match the ones I hear. So I can’t fake an accent but my accent changes depending on who I am around for extended periods of time. I think the narrator voice soemtimes, or actually a lot of the time, has a British accent because all of the narrators on TV are British. Commercials are voiced by Brits and all shows on Discovery, Animal Planet, and other documentary-type series are voiced by Brits. This is the most immersed in British accents that I’ve ever been in my life.

I also find that I say things that are British and while I don’t have a British accent perse a lot of what I say comes out sounding British. Like I’ve started doing the ‘yea?’ thing when I speak. Such as: “So I walked to the souq, yea?, and I saw the weirdest thing ever, yea?, you won’t even guess what it was.” Also I have picked up a little on the British speaking cadence, add that into having to speak overly articulate English and I’ve just developed an odd accent.

The Englyptian was at my house the other day and we were chatting while I cooked pancakes and all of a sudden she said to me, “sometimes you sound like an Egyptian. Like you speak English like an Egyptian, like you have an Egyptian accent when you speak English.”

Oh… fabulous.

I mean thats just great right? I’ve picked up an accent as if I were not a native speaker of English. Thats everyone’s dream right?

Oy.

I guess I can see what she means, I do sometimes do that and I think my mom mentioned it when she was here. She commented on my weird accent. I think the Englyptian may have been swayed by the fact that when I’m comfortable around someone I mix Arabic with English. Its so easy to do here because Egyptians who speak English will mix Arabic filler words in. Words like “khalas, ya3ani, bas keda, w eh?, tab meshi, etc.” I do that, I know.

Again, accent acquisition is something I do without realizing it. I don’t think its possible for me to be around an accent without picking it up, even if I don’t want to. So a year of living here, speaking mainly with Egyptians, or with Mr. MM who mixes Arabic and English, and British narrators on TV its a bloody miracle I still sound like me at all.

sigh

Dr. Mom has me on a clear liquid diet. I fudged a bit and put milk in my tea. So naughty. Its great having an NP for a mom, really, considering I won’t have health insurance when I go back to the states I’ll be able to have her diagnose me. It will royally suck to not be able to call the pharmacy and get rx meds without an rx like we can here though. Its pretty awesome here for that. Mr. MM is all for having mom be the PCP for our kids in the future. I have to admit that I like that idea too. But not a PCP for me, no, I mean can you imagine having your mom do your pelvic exam? I’m sure she’d be as uncomfortable with that as I am. I wonder if NP’s and Dr’s are allowed to be the PCP’s for relatives, like maybe it would be considered a conflict of interest?

Anyway, she told me clear liquids, nothing solid. Yay… Considering I haven’t actually eaten in about 16 hours I should be more interested in the bowl of broth I just made… I’m not.

I considered making some indomie but I really don’t need all that salt and preservatives. At least I make tasty broth.

I smell like the swamp thing. I think I need to take a shower. I don’t know if I have the energy though, I used up my last bits of strength cooking the broth and going back and forth from the bathroom. I should just tether myself to the toilet. Too bad it doesn’t recline like a lay-z-boy. This is a paragraph of sentence fragments.

I think I should stop, I’m just rambling by this point. I shall enjoy my broth, which is going down much better than I thought it would, and go back to channel surfing.

woot…

Swine Flu?

I was felled by a mystery disease today. I had been feeling off for the past three days with some stomach issues but nothing serious however today that all changed.

I couldn’t sleep last night, very weird, and when I got up I felt even more off. I walked to the souq to get some veggies for tonight and then met the Englyptian for coffee. By the time I got to the coffee shop I was completely worn out but I thought it was from the heat or from not sleeping.

After an hour of sitting there, the coffee shop must have turned their a/c onto the arctic circle setting because we were freezing. I got up to run to the bathroom and it felt like my bones were breaking and my joints were ripping apart. I could barely walk. Something was definitely not right.

I hobbled home with the Englyptian carrying my bag like the helpless invalid I was- thanks luv- and I laid on the floor with my entire body aching from head to toe. My skin even hurt wherever anyone or anything touched me.

Within an hour I spiked a 102.2 temperature and was cocooned on the couch with every blanket we owned and wearing flannel. It hurt to shiver from the fever, thats how badly my body hurt.

I took some medicine and laid down in bed for a nap and 45 minutes later woke up with the fever broken and drenched in sweat.

So weird.

I feel much better now, not as much body pain as before and feeling simply weak. But what an odd thing. Is there something called the 5 hour flu?

Very, very weird. I’ve honestly gotten more bugs here in Cairo then I ever really got in the States. I mean the serious, fever-inducing, puts you out for weeks at a time and makes you question your mortality type of bugs.

Immunity is such a specific thing.

Ps- I don’t think its really the swine flu. As far as I know it never broke out here, thank God. God only knows what else the petri-dish that is Cairo cooks up on its own though.

Again?

1.) I’m sick again. This time its mostly just a really bad cold, so alhumdulillah. But for real I’m so tired of getting sick. I could become a hermit with my desire to stay away from the bagillion germs that are outside. Cairo is straight dirrty dirrty.

2.) Zuzu is in heat… yet again. I totally thought it would be months before she went back into heat because all of the websites say it starts out slowly and gets closer together as the cat gets older. Nah… two weeks. Two weeks, only. She’s not in full-blown howly-yowly mode yet, she’s just in the let-me-rub-myself-on-everything-you-own phase. I like how friendly she gets but I’m not looking forward to the yowling. Seriously it seems like just yesterday she was in heat last time. This sucks. This weekend I need to crack down on finding the cleanest yet most affordable place to get her spayed. Its the best for her, really. I can’t imagine she’s enjoying being in heat.

A Lil’ Lumpy

This is what I reminded myself of when I had tonsillitis.

funny pictures
moar funny pictures

Mostly Dead Is Slightly Alive

I am, against all odds I’m sure, much better than I was this time last week.

There are few words to describe the agony I was in but being a true blogger at heart I will bore you with the details anyways.

It started Friday night with an asthma attack and during my fit of coughing I noticed a twinge in my throat. A simple twinge. Saturday I noticed that the twinge had become a sore throat but considering the pollution here gives me those all the time I paid no attention to it whatsoever. Saturday night I remarked to Mr. MM that my throat hurt and Sunday morning when I got up for work I remarked to him again that my throat still hurt, and a lot more actually.

I went to work (Sunday being the Monday of the Middle East) and I must have been in quite a bit of pain but in all truth it has been eclipsed in my memory by the searing agony that I dealt with later. I do remembering updating my facebook status from “sore throat” to “increasing amounts of pain” to “giving up the ghost” when I called it quits and headed home at 1 pm after I found that I had lost my voice. I didn’t think too much of it, I ordered two milk shakes from McDs and nursed my rapidly worsening throat with cold ice cream. When Mr. MM got home I was bad enough to actually want to go to the doctor (a painful process here on good days) and that evening we went to an ENT and I was diagnosed with simple tonsillitis and laryngitis, given an antibiotic, some ibuprofin (wtf?) and sent home. To suffer. Seriously, homeboy gave me 400mgs of ibuprofin to counteract the pain of tonsillitis. EVERY 8 HOURS. I was in complete and utter misery.

I’ll skip over the boring parts but it got to the point that I was dangerously dehydrated because I couldn’t get past the pain enough to swallow small sips of water. And beyond swallowing anything and everything I drank, even water, felt like acid melting away the lining of my throat. The antibiotic that Dr #1 gave me did SQUAT and so after two days of wanting to rip my hair out and thinking that death would be a better option than living we went back to another doctor who took one look at my throat, called Mr. MM over to see it, and then gave me what I can only believe was the most sincere look of profound pity that anyone has ever given me.

I actually had acute follicular tonsillitis which is like tonsillitis’ big brother on steroids. The one who terrorizes other little kid tonsillitises and steals their milk money. Anyways my entire throat was white with pus and infection and my tonsils were so swollen by that point that I was having trouble breathing.

Dr. #2, who is, praise God, knowedgable about medicine, wrote me an antibiotic that worked but which was almost worse than the illness itself. I wouldn’t know that until a few hours later.

Lets rewind for a second though. On this second trip to the doctor I got to see one of the upsides of living in Egypt and having awesome Egyptian in-laws: people who will drive across the city to come hold your hand while you wait in line to see the doctor. My youngest sister-in-law, her mother, and her fiance came to the crowded hospital to sit with us and then sis-in-law (who I will hereby refer to as “Hope”) decided to stay behind and ended up both staying that night and cleaning my house and also coming again a few days later to stay for a couple more nights nursing me.

It was wonderful and made me feel very loved, especially as Hope has a really great shoulder for leaning on and did a lot of holding me up. But one of the things about Egyptians is they think that the doctor they know is the best so after seeing Dr. #2 I went for a second opinion at the doctor my in-laws thought would be a better doctor, but oh were they wrong. This doctor is a specialist in pulmonary, not ENT. We got into her office and by this time I’m half-conscious, exhausted, debilitated, and barely able to breathe past my giant inflamed tonsils. Dr. Pulmonary thought that putting me on a therapy of pure oxygen was going to help so there I was, half conscious, with a mask strapped onto my face being instructed to breathe in and out through my mouth. Not only did the air dry out my painful, dehydrated throat but it also made me woozy so that I had to lay down and when I laid down my giant inflamed tonsils blocked my breathing so I became even more woozy. After all of this she doe s a quick look, says I have tonsillitis and blames it on having a cat.

It was midnight by this point, or actually after, and we went down to the biggest pharmacy by us and purchased the meds Dr. #2- by far the most competent of the doctors- perscribed, including the shot he gave me for pain. Another reason I liked him.  But I was administered the first of the most painful shots I have ever gotten in my entire life. He had rx’d an antibiotic called UNAYSIS that, I swear to you wallahi, felt like being injected with flesh-eating acid. First it would burn where it was injected and then it would spread and it hurt so bad the muscles around the injection-site would twitch spasmodically.

I had FIVE of those injections ladies and gentlemen. FIVE. Every twleve hours. The first one hit me like a ton of bricks because I had absolutely no idea it was coming. In the backroom of the pharmacy the pharmacist gave me the antibiotic and the pain medicine when I thought I was only getting one shot. I turned around, bared the bum, and then clutched the shelves for support when I felt it. I don’t know how to put it into words how it is when you’re totally not expecting it. I can take shots. I can even take shots that kind of hurt. But @(#&@$%*%^$!@*^#$$(@$#^&$#*@$#^#(@#%&$@&$#(#$&, not something that hurts that bad, and not when it comes out of left field. The pharmacist could have given me a heads up or something. I got the second shot for the pain killer and then limped out to the car, whimpering, Hope holding me up, and laid on the front seat face down because my bum hurt too much to sit on it.

Imagine how utterly pathetic I felt when I realized I had four more of those hell shots to go. Seriously, my bum STILL HURTS and its 4-5 days since my last shot. Like tender to the touch hurts. I wouldn’t wish those shots on my greatest enemy.

But they did the job and even the next day I was feeling immensely better.

Now, almost two weeks later, I’m finally feeling well enough to go back to work. I’m still exhausted. And I also developed a lung infection that makes me cough all day long for prolonged periods, but I’m on an antibiotic for that and am slowly getting over than one as well.

Honestly I have never been that sick in my life. I don’t ever want to be that sick again, inshAllah. Hopefully when I get back to the states I can get these tonsils out once and for all because two bouts of tonsillitis, as an adult, is too much.

Thank you guys for all your thoughts and prayers. I saw them when I came online and it made me feel better.

And now, I think I’m going to go sleep some more.