This morning, I woke up dreading breakfast and realized I still wasn’t better from my illness. Walking in for pancakes, I ate few bites before being unable to continue. “Do you have Jairo’s number?” Maritza said. “It’s not good for you to still be sick; you need to see a doctor before you do any work this morning.”
Much to my luck, Allen, a doctor who knows English very well, was working in the emergency room at the time and already knew what was wrong with me and the medications I was taking. “I can see that you’re very sick,” he said. “Your face is pale and your eyes show it as well. What we’re going to do is give you I.V. fluids for rehydration and also intravenous antibiotics—because you need them.” Apparently I was quite dehydrated despite drinking more than three liters of water and Gatorade each day, because the veins in my hands, which are normally quite prominent, could not be found. After two failed attempts on the top of my left hand, and another on the side of my wrist (ouch!), the nurse switched to my right hand and was successful in inserting the I.V. there. For the next three hours, I lied in the E.R. as two bags of saline and one bag of antibiotics slowly drained in (making my arm quite cold).
When I left around lunchtime to rest at home, my veins were once again quite prominent, and I became very hungry! Taking a taxi back from the hospital, I was surprised that the driver knew English. “I used to live Miami and Ohio—had a wife and family there. We separated,” he told me. “Hot out, isn’t it?” he added, “You’re unlucky. This valley is the hottest place in Honduras.”
In both the hospital and the homestay, everyone coming by to check on me would comment that I was sick because I lacked/needed a girlfriend. When dinnertime came, I was relieved and excited to be once again extremely hungry, and look forward to recovering soon and resuming work in the hospital!
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