Hospital

I guess I should give you a little back ground as to how I got there. Oh and by "there" I mean Vosandes, a big missionary hospital in Quito. So you remember the "death soup" right? Well after eating that, I never quite fully recovered and combined with a few other sketchy meals must have been what did me in. But who really knows?

This last Tuesday I started feeling funny, not like I wanted to tell jokes but more like I wanted to throw up on the guy smoking next to me. He would have deserved it too. We were at a soccer game, Quito vs. Uruguay and apparently every sports fan in Quito loves to smoke. I might have had a fever then but it was cold and raining in the outdoor stadium, so I couldn't really tell.

The next morning I dragged my self to work and got dragged to this lady's house so she could make breakfast, we were supposed to be doing house visits. Then she showed me her garden and guinea pig farm. I fell on the muddy mountain side. But what else is new? That was the 5th time falling for me last week, a record even for me. Well by this time I was really feel bad, pretty sure I had a fever. Asked to go by a store for medicine. We didn't. Went on one house visit but I sat in the chair and had no energy to get up and play with the little kid. So I went home early and suffered through one of the worst colds I've had in a while.

Next day, Thursday, I went to the doctor. But in my sickened stupor didn't think to ask for an English speaking doctor. So not every thing was really taken care of just the main cold but not the underlying stomach stuff, which wasn't so bad (or so I thought). Friday, woke up before my alarm, sicker than a dog! Oh and Friday I was supposed to go to Manta to visit Nick and the orphanage he's working at. So off to the doctor's I went, again. Worst day ever. Fast bumpy ride there. Sick all over again upon arrival. Then from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. on the worlds smallest exam table. After jabbing me several times to find phantom veins I'm finally IVed and a few tea spoons short of blood. Then after not being able to get my fever down (which took them until mid day to finally catch with thermometer) they sent me over to the hospital for over night observation and to figure out what was going on with me. Oh yeah, I'm sure you've guessed by now but I didn't go to Manta.

Get to the hospital. It's perfect, like out a movie. I'm looking down the halls filled with sick and well people walking or being pushed up and down it. All that's missing is some tinsel and some huge tacky Christmas ornaments hanging off the walls. A nice woman helps me when something falls over of mine. A baby walks around for 5 mins whispering "papa" the whole time. I mention this to the clerk who gets up looks around then sits back down uninterested, oh Ecuador. Baby found by mother. I want a coke at this point, I think "I hope I can have coke with this." Mayra rolls her eyes at me because she's more frustrated than I am at how long the sign in process is. Guy walks in with two pizzas and a coke. A cold coke. They never had cold coke here! I sighed. Then off to my room in a wheel chair, I kinda liked it, not going to lie. My room was alright, normal but no T.V. I was glad, it'd probably more annoying that any thing. Didn't sleep much that night, monitor kept going off and the buzzer was out of reach, nurses, blood drawn, in and out or pain, fever/chills, medication, roommate that sounded like Darth Vader when it slept, yes it.


Now Christine has reassured me that I'm not strange for thinking this, but I've always thought it'd be kinda exciting staying in a Hospital! But she did bring up a good point, in all of these day dreams being sick isn't really the main point. Well Christine, it's not worth it, I'll tell you that right now. They don't always come when you want them to or bring you want you want and you're still sick the whole time. In fact once I told a nurse that I was very cold and wanted another blanket, so she promptly pleaded off the warmer of two blankets off my bed and started to leave saying I had a fever and needed less heat! I swear if she was on my IV side I would have choked her out!!! I begged and got my old one back but no new one's.


Friday was the worst, Saturday not much better. It was pretty much the same as Friday night's list of events sprinkled with a visits from the family I live with. Mayra looking after me all the while.

Sunday was better, I wasn't as bad but still not better. They said I still had to stay. Got moved to a new room with better chairs and a balcony and a roommate from the states who had a worse time of it than I did! So apparently I'm not good at resting because I bent my IV needled in an L shape inside my elbow. So because they ruined every other part of my arms they had to insert a new on in my hand! Every finger movement brought a shot pain up my arm. You should see my track marks and bruises now.

They let me go back to the house on Monday. I'm not perfectly well but on the mends, I guess. I guess some good things that came out of it. I got to practice Spanish, although the vocabulary I picked up I hope I won't have to use in very many social situations! I'll never wonder what it's like to stay in a hospital, ever ever again. Probably never prayed "God help me" more times in one time period, I really had to depend on Him not just talk like I do. And the best thing of all: I GOT THREE HOT SHOWERS!

My life, it's kinda like a bad movie with some funny parts

So I just had the most awkward situation ever. I came back to the house after working and one of the workers here (they always seem to be having construction of some kind) was trying to talk to me. I thought he was trying to tell me something about my room and when I walked in to ask him what's up, he followed me and closed the door slightly and sat down and started to chat away! So I got my stuff to make lunch and walked out, then he heard the "boss" coming and told me to "shh" and walked quietly back to work! Then after that he came back and wanted me to sit down and talk with him. After asking my name and saying it was nice to meet me officially he reached over to give me what I thought was a customary greeting (a kiss on the cheek) but he gave me an awkward hug and tried to hold on for a bit. Then I didn' t know whether I should laugh or run away... so I pushed away and asked for his name and then promptly got up to make lunch while he talked to me, instead of doing his work. So here I am hiding in my room (oh by the way I have my own room with a bathroom now, if I forgot to mention that) waiting for 6 o'clock.



I saw a old guy with really swollen hands on the bus today. Well mostly just the fingers, but not like when a person has arthritis. I wonder what it was? I always see such strange things on the bus. I need to keep a bus journal.



So on Good Friday I ate this soup that they only have for Easter (Pascua) called Fanesca. It's 12 ingredients to represent the 12 disciples of Christ. I helped make it but mostly sat around and watched a Moses cartoon in Spanish. Well the soup was great. I loved it when I first ate it, but about 10 mins after eating it I pretty much hated it. So after praying and taking one Imodium I sat through 4 and half hours of church (a total of about 5 and a half hours of being there altogether). One of the worst days of my life. The poor kid that walked in while I was in the bathroom after eating what I now call "death soup" is going to have nightmares for life. I couldn't even yell at him to get out right away because I was puking. Such is my life.

And a strange life it is at that. I mean I've been thinking about it and it almost seems like it's not really my real life. Just a fake one for the time. I mean it's a year. I kinda started a new life here but then go home and restart all over again. It's a weird concept. I don't think this makes much sense.

I need to get motivated to speak Spanish, I've gotten lazy. I think was in a bit of a funk. Feeling really out of place here not sure how I fit in being white and not speaking much Spanish.

Oh and that's another thing, being a minority. Such a strange experience. I mean there is no settling or feeling normal. I get mistreated or worshiped. I'm not sure which is worse. I stick out like a sore thumb, and I'm always conscious of that fact. People rip me off, cut me off in lines, or ignore me because of how I look. The other day I blew up a cab driver because I thought he was ripping me off (turns out he wasn't) because half of them always try. I won't even mention the stupid cat-calls and whistles. I hate it.