Many of my memories from my medical ordeal are positive--the outpouring of support will forever be a gift that I will treasure. One friend took my dirty laundry to her home and washed all my clothes. (I had a week's worth of laundry because I had been traveling prior to entering the hospital.) Another offered to pick up the MRI so that Esperanza, who was going to take a taxi to pick it up, didn't have to. 2 people brought flowers. Visitors were practically constant. I never felt that I was alone. My friends became my family. Aside from Nurse Ratchett and her twin, I felt very well cared for by all the medical professionals. The doctor who visited me in the hostal in Olón, before I was hospitalized, offered to put more money on my cell phone when I said that I was running low. This was after he told me to call him again if needed. I gave him the money and he followed through as promised. I quite frankly can't imagine something like this happening in the U. S., but this is typical here. When I walked into my doctor's office yesterday for a follow-up visit, I was so touched by his greeting. He got up and gave me the biggest, warmest hug. He did the same when I left. I think that he was as happy to see me up and about as I am.
One ridiculous/aggravating memory, which I can laugh about now, has to do with the ambulance driver who drove Nancy & me the 5 hours from La Libertad to Cuenca. About 5 minutes into the drive, we stopped to pick up the ambulance driver's sister. I guess she sort of came along for the ride. When we arrived 5 hours later at Clinica Santa Ana in Cuenca, and I was transferred to a stretcher in the emergency room, I was still laying on a sheet from Clinica Baste, the name of the hospital in La Libertad. The name Clinica Baste was painted in large letters on the sheet. The ambulance driver said he had to return to La Libertad with the sheet. There was no way that I was moving to get that sheet out from under me. Impossible. The pain would have been insuportable (meaning intolerable; I like the word insuportable very much because it so accurately describes how I felt). So I said that I would pay for the damn sheet. I don't know what 1 sheet costs in the U.S., everything is SO much cheaper here. The driver said it cost $20. That was highway robbery, but I was in no position to argue. I told my friend, Nancy, who had my $ to just give it to him so that he could be on his way. She did & later said that he & his sister probably went out & had a fantastic lunch. Oh well. Really not important.
One ridiculous/aggravating memory, which I can laugh about now, has to do with the ambulance driver who drove Nancy & me the 5 hours from La Libertad to Cuenca. About 5 minutes into the drive, we stopped to pick up the ambulance driver's sister. I guess she sort of came along for the ride. When we arrived 5 hours later at Clinica Santa Ana in Cuenca, and I was transferred to a stretcher in the emergency room, I was still laying on a sheet from Clinica Baste, the name of the hospital in La Libertad. The name Clinica Baste was painted in large letters on the sheet. The ambulance driver said he had to return to La Libertad with the sheet. There was no way that I was moving to get that sheet out from under me. Impossible. The pain would have been insuportable (meaning intolerable; I like the word insuportable very much because it so accurately describes how I felt). So I said that I would pay for the damn sheet. I don't know what 1 sheet costs in the U.S., everything is SO much cheaper here. The driver said it cost $20. That was highway robbery, but I was in no position to argue. I told my friend, Nancy, who had my $ to just give it to him so that he could be on his way. She did & later said that he & his sister probably went out & had a fantastic lunch. Oh well. Really not important.
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