Messiah Doctors, Flying Nurses, and Killin' Amoebas

Listening to Elliott Smith, watching the room slowly cleanse itself in warm, orange light, darkening elegantly into a subtle rose wash.

I'm just a waxing-emo-poetic. (Have I mentioned that I didn't pack my skinny jeans?) I'll just blame it on the lack of food today. Why lacking food? Oh, let me tell you.

Early this morning I was awakened by my delightful digestive system, which is far from unusual as of late. This morning, however, the enthusiasm of said system was notably increased, and it was at this moment that I promised myself that I would visit the friendly commie hospital today.

Being such a wonderful, steadfast person, I did not break this promise to myself. The adventure known as Clínica Centra Cira García was about to begin.

Immediately upon walking in the entrance, I felt like the sliding doors which had allowed our arrival acted secondly as a time machine. The nurses all had skirts on, tights, white shoes, and.. most notably... WHITE FUNNY HATS. I was reminded of Mom's nursing school picture. Okay, I can't remember if there actually was such a picture, but that is how I imagine such a photograph to look.

Quickly recovering from the shock of the hats (and chuckling when Chelsea turned to me and whispered, "are those hats what your mom wears at work?") we went up to the registration desk. The girl was very much the Cuban version of Mariah... perfectly coifed hair, meticulously accessorized outfit, very professional. Not kidding, I thought about how you'd fit right in, Ry (except for the whole flaming-ginger thing, of course). Anyway, some nurse asked me about my complaints, and then we sat down in the waiting room. (The waiting room had a ginormous cloudy fish tank with two goldfish that were the size of cats.) A few minutes later a man came up to me, handed me a plastic container with a top on it, and told me to go to the bathroom and produce a present. I found this kind notably lacking in subtly, but that's okay. I went to the bathroom (which had not only toilet seats, but TOILET PAPER, AAAND SOAP!) but sadly couldn't live up to his expectations.

After such a disappointing performance, I got called in to talk to Dr. Jesús González. He was a wonderful old man. His office was a strange combination: his desk with paperwork and chairs, the examination table right behind, a sink, and all other amenities. "Stick a toilet in here, and you'd never have to leave," Chelsea said. He examined me, saw nothing wrong, sent me off to have my blood drawn, then said that he'd give me some time to chill in the hospital area with the hopes of delivering. So then Chelsea, Honorio and I went to the hospital cafetería where I had two ice creams and café con leche in hopes of agitating my digestive system enough for it to cooperate. No luck. Instead all I got was a wicked stomachache. C'est la vie. We returned to the ER waiting room again, where the same man who had handed me the container originally looked very excited to see me, then immediately walked away. A few minutes later, Jesús came out to call me back into the office. Despite my incompetence, he gave me some meds for amoebas, some electrolyte packets to put in some water (no gatorade here!), and a scrip for peptobismol. (No joke, that's what he called it - with a thick Cuban accent, of course. That name's not on the bottle, but that really made me laugh that he called it that.) So yes, we went to the farmacía to get the meds, looked around to see what else they were selling, got a little depressed that Listerine cost around $8, then ended up getting handed the bill for 35 CUC for my loot.

Half hour later, the insurance situation got figured out. Turns out they just automatically assumed that I was uninsured, and treated me as such. Poor Jesús had to go through and fill out a whole new set of papers once I was counted as insured.

In conclusion, I ended up paying nothing but the cab fare both ways (5 CUC total which isn't so bad considering the clinic's out in Míramar). I have two rounds of amoeba killers (parasites, of course, but I like how he used the word amoeba) to take, some other pills that have some other purpose that I need to figure out before taking, and some pink shiny peptobismol to boot. Oh, and some coco flavored electrolyte packets. Yess.

This was a very exciting Friday, as I'm sure you'll agree. Today proved to be yet another reminder of how difficult my name is for Cuban people to pronounce. Everyone gets it the first time, repeating after me, sounding it out, but then immediately they forget it. I think it's because they can't visualize how to spell it. I've taken to saying "MEH-gahn" when I think to do so, but sometimes it's hard to remember to say my name incorrectly when someone asks me. After twenty years of pronouncing my name the same way, it's kind of hard to change now.

Anyway. It's now dark in the room, and I have yet to turn a light on. Dinner's in a half hour!

Love you and miss you all!