i hate sick

M is sick. I don't know what is wrong with her. She's covered in a terrible rash and hot to the touch. I took her to our jungle MD this morning early, I called him on his cell and he said to meet him at his office and we did. He took one look at her and said it was an allergic reaction but to what? So we trudged across the dirt road to the laboratory where they took a bit of blood for further exploring and after lunch we'll go back and wait our turn. We'll wait our turn in a roomful of people, there are no appointments but then again there is cell phones that get answered and she's in okay spirits so far.

We have friends in town, good friends who we love and have missed and who've come to visit. The rest of the party is in the middle of a jungle inside of a cave partially under water right now while I sit with my child and wonder what the prognosis will be. J wanted to stay behind, he thought I should go with our friends but it's funny, it's so funny it's not even a thought because it's just like air or water when your child is sick you are a mother and nothing else not anything else matters until you know they are okay and the thought of not being there is not even a thought because you'd never even think it because this is where no matter what this is where you need to be.

passing go

Another long day sitting in hospital pre-op and post-op rooms, J is hanging in but today was painful, really painful and seeing him like this and seeing us like this is making me tired.  Simply put, the last few weeks have been hell around the plus two.  And the hot doctor didn't even look so hot.  I'm not sure why that is but am thinking it has to do with me.

But grace is everywhere, isn't it.  

It's in the nurse who took me aside and shared some coffee, in the man who lended a hand to a stranger when I'd lost my way, in the pharmacy tech who pulled some strings, to my parents and friends here and the ones in the jungle who keep checking in and of course, all of you.  It's in motion, all of it and in times like this you almost sit back and take stock of all the goodness swirling all around you and how if it wasn't for that you don't know how things would work and yet because of it they keep on.  

The world is a small and friendly place and those kidney stones, well lets just say those fuckers are toast. I've got them in a jar and if I wasn't so annoyed with them I might name them, perhaps Cheech and Chong or George and Dick, comedy duos high and low.

And now we wait.  We need the green light. The one that can set us free. 

like a blister in the sun

Your comments and emails and general loveliness has been so wonderful. I truly thank you, the knowing that there is a place to say what I want and to have it heard means more than you know. But since you've asked, the truth is this all kind of sucks. Chances are everything is peachy but since we don't know we can't really make plans.  If everything is fine then....or well if you end up being sick then....but there isn't really a finish to the conversation because we simply have no idea.  

I'd like to say we are making the best of it but the truth is it's making us cranky.  Well that, and living at my parents house is a bit of a grind. Plus I'm feeling sullen, my birthday is coming up on Thursday and while it's just a birthday and it's really no big deal, I sort of can't help feeling like a teenager and a crone all at the same time.  I want cake. I don't want cake.  

I just want to go back to the jungle and whine about the heat and the bugs.

This week is filled with more doctors but this time it's addressing the original sin, er, issue of the kidneys so once again we'll spend a day or two at the hospital and surgery will ensue and in between we'll wait for the results of the biopsy. Have I mentioned the kidney doctor is a total fox?  Almost makes a girl wish it was her insides he was manhandling and I'm almost jealous I'll be sitting on the sidelines and not the focus of his attention. I said as much in mixed company and received mixed reviews but I'm sure here around this fire you'll give me more rope.  Plus I'm kidding. Duh. Mostly.

I re-read my recent posts and think I'm making this time in our lives sound better than it is. I mean, I am and I'm not.  We are good and we are not.  I am happy and I am not. I am scared and I am not.  I am angry and I am not.  I am self-obsessed and I wish I was not.

But then I watch my child, bubbling over with joy after a day spent with her grandparents and I know that at least for her, life is rolling along just fine and that in some ways is exactly enough.  

day 49: backtracking

We've been walking around in a daze for two days, coming off the whirlwind of hospitals and airline reservations and packing. We don't want to go. We wander around the house bumping into each other alternating saying i don't want to go back with are you having any pain? We are both terrified he'll get another stone attack before we get on the plane or worse, while on the plane itself. The pain comes so fiercely, it's all he can do not to pass out. I am begging the gods and goddesses and the moon and the earth for it to lie dormant until we get to the states.

Medical issues aside I am a bit scared. Scared it's not been long enough for me to forget my foolish ways. Scared I'll hop right back on the laptop, a virtual junkie. Scared I'll find the shower and the laundry too comforting, the sheets too cool and crisp. The adjusting has taken some time and now we are throwing ourselves backwards and I wonder if we are strong enough to resist the sanitary charms.

Friends here have enveloped us, one is house and dog sitting, another is ensuring M can get registered for kindergarten, a process I was supposed to start next week. Two others are taking us on the long journey to the airport, in order to fly home we've had to surrender our car, a process that ensures that we won't be in legal trouble upon return. We take his ultrasound pictures and doctor papers, I show it to the customs person hoping it will mean they will give us a break and surprisingly enough it does, the man studies the papers and looks at us we understand your situation and can work with you he says and I smile in gratitude, on the verge of tears all day.

Friends invited us for dinner, cooking is the last thing you need to worry about they said and so we sat under a palapa eating a delicious meal as the sun set still in disbelief that we have to go. In less than two months we've had our fair share of struggles, I imagine our village friends must think of us as calamitous gringos, one thing after another seems to be getting in our way and causing others to lend a hand. There's been nothing routine about it, for the past six weeks we've been really living, awake and alive and each day both bright and exhausting as we figure our way. We've figured it and now hit some bumps and wonder how long we'll be derailed while knowing the only thing that truly matters is that J is okay. But we can't believe we are walking backwards after such a short while.

day 47: from good to bad to worse

Remember those kidney stones?  Well they reared their ugly head last night, J was in so much pain I actually thought he might die. We went to the "emergency room" at 11pm only to find there were no doctors on duty.  In fact, there were only two women on duty for the whole hospital.  So they medicate him (I could elaborate here but it was actually too scary to recount) and then we go home only for the medication to wear off.  We come back in the morning and things proceeded to get worse.  I don't think I've been this scared in a long time.

Long story short is the stones are one issue but there might be something worse underneath, something that caught us terribly by surprise and has us rather scared.  We've been advised by the doctor here that we need to go to the states and see a specialist and we need to go soon so after much debate and heartache and tears we are flying home in a couple days so we can make sure (we have to make sure we will make sure it will be fine it will be it must) that J is okay and to also deal with those nasty stones, something relegated to the side for the moment yet painful as hell.

So after 47 days we are unexpectedly going back but are leaving our house and our puppy and our car in good hands and will return as soon as we make sure J is okay.  Coming back home is the phrase I used and was surprised at it's ease. This has been an adventure from the beginning, as much as we want to understand why this is happening we can only feel thankful for friends ready to assist in the states and our new community here and for health insurance, that nasty bugger that everyone complains about until you really need it and then you realize how utterly grateful you are that it exists. 

Because last night scared me and it scared me bad.  

PS. If you are sending supplies for M's preschool but haven't yet shipped them please hold off till we know our return date.  If you've already shipped a package I've asked a friend here to intervene and hope she can pick them up in my absence.  I apologize for this, am not sure what else I can do. 

day 35: stoned

J woke up yesterday in terrible pain and we figured it was kidney stones since he's had them in the past. He actually tells me he needs to go to the hospital, an enormous first for him. So we figure out who can take M to school and we find out which hospital is the best and off we go for parts unknown. The hospital was pretty laid back, not a lot of bureacracy, you just check in and then tell someone what's wrong and they pick a doctor and you sit outside their door till they come out and then you sit on a bench here and then move to one over there, hang out here and then come over there. Everything is bare bones and folks just sort of congregate but all in all we had no complaints for how they cared for him or for how long it took.

All of it together only cost about $100 US but none of it will fix the problem, the laser machine he needs to break up the stones don't exist in this country, so it's either Cuba or Guatemala or of course, back to the States. So we'll see another MD tomorrow but chances are he'll have to leave for awhile to get this taken care of and thankfully our US insurance is still in effect. After getting pain medication he starts to muse that it might be kind of cool to go to Guatemala to get it fixed but I smack him on the head, pain or no that just seems dumb to go where you know no one versus going home where he'll have a place to stay and the language is the same. I suppose you can take the boy out of the adventure but you cannot take the adventure out of the boy. Besides that I'd totally pick Cuba but whatever, it's not my kidney.

So now that the crisis is managed I can breathe deeper, but for a few moments this morning I felt so entirely alone, that one false step can throw us under, that we really don't know what we are doing here at all and then things fall into place and it's okay again. If there is one thing that I keep learning here it's that things work themselves out, they do because they must and because life is easier than we think if we just take it one step at a time. Already the word of his illness is making the rounds of our little community, some non traditional healers are reaching out to us and J's interested in exploring that too so maybe we'll fix this sooner than we think. Like I said, things have a way of working themselves out, everywhere of course but lately it seems especially here.

M at school (the one looking at the camera). Aren't the uniforms cute? Every school here has some sort of uniform. Every school here is religious too, at least the public ones. Not as cute, but she's learning all sorts of new stuff, including about that guy who died on a cross and CAME BACK! He was bleeding everywhere and still CAME BACK! Nice. Thanks for that.

In other non medical related news, I had the chance to meet Jen this weekend. She and a group of friends were in the town near our village so we agreed to meet at a bar. I was running a bit late and had no way to contact her but as I drove through town I saw a woman on the street. I've never met her but she'd sent a picture and even in the dark I just knew it was her. So I'm yelling her name out the window and she sees me and jumps in the car and we head back to the bar. Pretty funny, given that if I'd not seen her I might have missed her altogether but I happened to find her in the street. Small country, this one. So we shared a beer and talked and she, because she is entirely amazing, actually lugged a whole bag of school supplies and even some presents for M. She has no idea how happy she made my child and about 20 others just through her simple kindness. It was so wonderful to meet her in person, and it makes me laugh that our first visitor is a blog friend but in actuality it makes perfect sense.

a sheriff a baby and some pants

I first saw them at the beginning of the week as they wheeled the stroller into the enormous room chilled to the bone. I hear him before I can see him but I'd recognize that sound anywhere. The sound of the newly born.

The parents are ragged and distrustful, but the journey to here no matter how many wrong turns doesn't mean anything to a newborn. We bring them in and start to get them settled when I see the hospital bracelet still on her wrist. How old is he, I ask. 4 days, she says. M is with me and she's antsy, we've been here awhile now and she's finished her various tasks. After a while I tell her it's time for us to go and the mom hears me. She looks up at the baby's father She's not staying. We are the only family staying here. Her eyes dart around the room and she sees what I see, a hundred or so folks from the street milling around and then there's her.

M immediately blurts out we can stay too mommy it'll be fun and in that moment I feel like the worst person ever, I would never want her to stay there all night and yet somehow I've rationalized that it's okay for others, a hypocritical line I've somehow learned how to cross.

Two nights later I return alone, the little family is there again and now the baby has spent half of his life in the streets. It's a complicated situation, one that requires more creativity than usual and so we assembled a team and after about three minutes assessing the situation one of them looks at me with what looks like tears in his eyes. I'm making it my personal goal to have them in a better place by Friday he says. And sometimes the stars align because he does exactly that, even beating his own deadline by a good 24 hours.

Across town I run into another little family, this time a mom and her daughter who's exactly the same age as M. The mom has 1 day left to stall the sheriff from locking her out of her apartment, the clock is ticking and she's desperate and it's not lost on me how young she looks herself. The little girl is sullen, I lean down and ask her if she's hungry and she nods her head. She's having a bad day, her mama says. We've been on the bus so long she had an accident and we don't have a change of clothes. Now I see it, she's not sullen but embarrassed and she will not stand up no matter what. Want me to try and find you some pants I ask and she nods.

While I'm off hunting down little kid pants the mom gets the help she needs and the eviction has been forestalled. She'll have her place for another month and if she follows a few other steps maybe she won't be in this place again next month. We even find some pants. It's moments like this that make the most sense.

Too much cold and too much work has left me sick just as I was supposed to get on a plane. Now I'm home instead of going away and I'm not happy about it but given the week itself it still feels like we've come out ahead and sometimes that's just the way things go.

i dream of india

on those days, especially those days when everyone is sick and you are sick and you think perhaps just perhaps after a long weekend of sick you are going to have the house alone, deliciously alone because you are too sick to go to work come Monday and yet you find your child is also still sick and unable to go to school and your fantasy of lying on the couch all day alone, deliciously alone with the remote and your laptop and you watch it puddle on the floor and try as you might to catch it before it swirls down the drain, the dirty drain it slips past you and you find yourself on the couch decidely un-alone and you sigh and you realize it's nine am and you've got twelve hours to go before it's done.

it's then i dream of india, the heat and the diesel and the smells and the colors you've never seen and so desperately long to see and you'd give anything to be wandering the streets of a foreign city alone in the distant fierceness of your youth.

it's like that almost exactly.

today's the last day to send me your Just Posts, the Roundtable is coming up on Thursday. you can send them to girlplustwoATyahooDOTcom today and if you are kind, so very kind you'll also send me the perfect babysitter and a one way ticket to the east.

we'll see

There were four of them spaced somewhat evenly around the grocery store entrance this morning as I went in to buy a few things for a party I am already fairly sure we will not end up attending. Guys, I say. Hey. You staying at the _________. (It's winter, it's cold, and they are in the same city as the temporary winter program and I know they know about it because at least one of them looks familiar). Speaken Dutch? or something similar, one guy replies. Are you messing with me, dude? Cause if you are I'll keep walking. Wait a minute he says, english perfect and if I'm not mistaken a bit of a southern twang, so I smile and say It's going to be cold tonight, really cold. I work with the people over there and like it or not, you can all stay there if you want to. Think about it and I'll stop by on my way out. One of them tells me they need $150 for a place but it's in a city I am not sure how to help with, so I need a few minutes to think.

M spent the night puking, sometimes all over me. I'm exhausted and sort of annoyed, my too small house has extra family in it right now, everyone wants to help, bless them, but I just want to be left alone. Ho, Ho, Ho, to me. So I finish my shopping and grab some deli sandwiches for the guys (and one woman) outside.

I've racked my brain, I can't help with the $150. If it was in another city, I'd know of a place who could help. It's alright, thank you for at least thinking about it, the guy sitting with the fake Dutch guy replied. I'm still not too keen on the fake Dutch guy but I also know it doesn't really matter in the end. The woman tells me they've stayed at the program and they can stay there again, it's a bit of a walk but they'll probably end up doing just that. They ask if they can have a bed for certain and I tell them yes because I know it's true. When it's this cold we'll pack them in if we have to. I hand them the sandwiches because even if some of them are hustling there's no free meals till dinner on a Saturday. Now we are all friends, me and these guys who've moved a bit closer while everyone entering the store gives us wide berth. I wonder what those folks think, me and a group of guys shooting the shit, the Please Help, I'm homeless and hungry sign at our feet.

I don't have much more to say, I'm still tired and still annoyed. I tell them again how cold it's going to be and that I hope they take care and take me up on my offer. I mention I have a sick kid and two of them wish her well. How old is she, the woman asks and I tell her. It's hard on the little ones she says. I hope you have a Merry Christmas. I am always touched by moments like this, blessings from the poor that are hard to accept and still feel okay about walking away.

i got the fever

Groggy, I wake up to her plaintive cries. I'm sick mommy, I so sick. I reach her and she's burning up, a piping hot version of my child, heat radiating a foot off her skin. I lay her down in bed next to me and she says My stomach, mommy. Moments later her little body is convulsing and I just barely made it stumbling in the dark to the bathroom. Her body shakes and gags, she cries but is so entirely brave. I don't stop holding her and her feet don't touch the ground.

Finished, I bring her back to bed and hold her, she is so hot and I can't get the goddamn newfangled digital thermometer to work right so I have no idea how hot exactly, is hot.

I hold her all night, she cries and sweats, medicine is promptly rejected by her stomach but I try anyways fearing the heat. I lay awake and my mind takes over. Every horrible illness I can think of comes to mind, dengue, malaria, things impossible to have where we live but the names float around my brain anyways. I map out the route to the ER, I set my mind to watch. I overreact in times like this, at least on the inside, the helplessness of fever.

The long night turns into day and we try more medicine again and this time it stays put. She's not well but I am not panicked, more resigned for a longer Sunday than I'd imagined twelve hours before. The helplessness of fever, the finiteness of mothering and how little we can actually fix runs circles in my addled brain.

breathing lessons

We spent the rest of our holiday like this:

And while sitting there, I took a picture of these:

Both images suck, but one for the obvious and the other because I was using a cell phone camera and hospital lighting is entirely unflattering, not to mention the poor choice of flooring. But since you asked, I thought it only fair to share the henna love.


Needless to say, we are exhausted. M is breathing better but still quite sick, and I've been coughed on enough to form my very own small germ colony. I anticipate joining the ranks in two to three days and somehow, I look forward to it.

The bonus is the hospital sent us home with Our Very Own Breathing Machine, so I can pretend to be a nurse in the comfort of my own living room. Which, I might add, would be accepted much better than the really mean nurse who made my baby shriek and cry for no good reason until I finally stopped the madness and asked her to Leave The Room Right Now. But more on that, later.

strategic planning

M is sick. Not horrendously so, but just enough not to qualify for daycare. It's complicated when you have two working parents and no back up options. When both parents have critical work issues and neither can easily take a day off.

It becomes a negotiation. Hashing out who has what on their plate and who can let what go. I lost today, but I mostly lost because I simply cannot miss work tomorrow, and tomorrow might look very much like today. J's outlook was worse today, and a bit easier tomorrow. Negotiation complete.

My child's health is far and away the most important thing. But it's amazing how complicated all of it gets.

I am still working on the post to answer some questions generated from the last post. This too, has been derailed by illness. But I am working on it regardless. I am anticipating a long and difficult day after a long and difficult night.

I sound like such a whiner. Ugh.