a trip to the hospital

I just returned from a stop at one of the local hospitals. After struggling to get over all of the small illnesses that plagued me from the boat, I spent much of last night with intense pain in my abdomen and back. I rose and coughed up a bunch of stuff, and then spent alot of the day hunched in the same kind of pain. I remembered having similar pain once in Tibet, which was the last time I went more than a few days without a shower - though I'm not sure that has anything to do with it.
So instead of boarding the sixteen hour bus ride I had booked for Arequipa, I went to the doctor, with not a little prodding from some of the women in my life - thanks mom and Megan! That would have been rough.
The doctor himself was a nice man, unlike the ultrasound guy or the needle dude. He made light conversation about the origins of the word gringo, saying that green was meant to signify the opposite of Russian red, and go was where the Mexicans under Pancho Villa wanted the Americans to Vamos.
In the hospital I was treated to a chest x-ray that showed healthy lungs, followed by an ultrasound, jelly and all. I learned I've got a gallstone blocking my gallbladder and that it was causing the throbbing ache in my torso, knowledge disseminated by a doctor who relished scaring me with exclamations of surprise in me having one so young, and descriptions of how the surgery would go should it have to be removed. He made graphic drawings and laughed at my facial expressions. I thought about hitting him a couple of times.
At least it wasn't legionairre's disease. So I got a needle full of something to ease the pain, applied none too gently by a man who did not seem to like me, and then some pills to take for the next few days. And now I'm on a low fat diet - which has me a bit confounded in this country of animal products.

Some Rumi from Zenda:


Listen to your essential self, the Friend.
"When you feel longing, be patient,
and also prudent, moderate with eating and drinking.
Be like a mountain in the wind.
Do you notice how little it moves?
There are sweet illusions that arrive
to lure you away. Make some excuse to them...
I have indigestion, or I need to meet my cousin.
You fish, the baited hook may be fifty
or even sixty gold pieces, but is it really worth
your freedom in the ocean?
When traveling, stay close to your bag.
I am the bag that holds what you love.
You can be separated from me.
Live carefully in the joy of this friendship.
Don't think, 'But those others love me so.'
Some invitations sound like the fowler's whistle
to the quail, friendly,
but not quite how you remember
the call of your soul's Friend."
--Rumi