You might, dear reader, think this impossible; but rest assured it is both possible and highly probable: I am allergic to Central America.

I don’t want to be melodramatic and this isn’t one of those “allergic to Mondays” kind of situations. Central America is trying to slowly and painfully kill me. And, because Central America isn’t a person but a thing, that isn’t homicide, it’s allergy.

Punto numero uno: I am never sick. I fake sick. I get an occasional migraine which is typically accompanied by nausea (and about which I lie to the doctors in order to continue a birth control regimen). I get colds, but not the kind that knock me on my bum. I sometimes drink too much and the resulting cruda or goma is nearly fatal. But I can’t actually remember the last time I vomited because of a virus.

Punto numero dos: Owing to my tenacious immune system – and probably because my dad never successfully broke me of biting my nails, as a friend pointed out – I’ve only had food poisoning once, when I ate some obviously questionable mushroom pizza (I was poor and hungry).

Punto numero tres: Where most people refuse to put their heads in the shower lest some water make it to their mouths, I drink the water. Drinking local water is handy; it saves time and money and weight in my bag.

Punto numero quatro: Usually I am afflicted with some pretty heinous traveler’s diarrhea about two weeks after starting a trip (even if the trip lasts for less than two weeks). But the reliable, non-explosive kind.

In the first week of my trip, I had severe nausea, vomiting, and nosebleeds, but that was from the doxycycline (which I promptly stopped taking).

Since then, I’ve had two cases of pretty severe (but thankfully still non-explosive) diarrhea paired with heinous nausea and vomiting, a couple instances of acute lethargy, a random menstruation out of sync with my pill – probably because of the antibiotics – and now my first ever UTI or infección de tracto urinario.

UTIs, by the way, are the cause of 1.3 percent of suicides by females in developed nations. Or at least they could be because they are BLOODY AWFUL.

Obviously the only explanation is that the region is attacking my body in such a manner that my body can do nothing but decompose before my very eyes. If we could leave the gruesome details off my headstone, I’d appreciate it.