It is as if I have been placed in some peculiar, uncertain purgatory. What with my charming new parasite friend, the wrapped gauze still taped to the back of my hand, and my stomach aching and empty (save for a plain roll of bread; the first piece of food I've had for days) I doubt I have left the hostel more than twice since we arrived here. Perhaps sooner rather than later I will get up and eat another roll of bread (oh my!) but I suppose I shouldn't be hasty. Honestly, what I wouldn't give for a Caesar salad from Novo's right now; what a wonderful thought! Anchovies, sun-dried tomatoes, freshly sliced parmesan, all on crisp and succulent romaine hearts with the perfect amount of savory, tangy Caesar dressing.
Oh my.
Alright, disaster avoided, I have discovered another roll. Unfortunately my stomach doesn't appear to like the look of it so we're having a bit of a face-off until one of us decides the best course of action.
Alas, the Internet access this evening is unascertainable and hopefully the folks here at Otavalo Huasi will have called someone by 8 and organized some sort of armistice with the web gods and allow me to update you on all the haps. Until then, I will continue my vigil on the signal strength bar and continue to type away in the mac-version of working offline. There's very odd sounds outside; I can't tell if it's gunfire or fireworks. There's also quite a bit of people noise, but I suppose it's more suggestive of harmless revelry than anything else.
Well, the hospital experience was far more pleasant than I would have thought, if pleasant is near the description I'm searching for. Sandy and I had a wonderfully charming taxi driver, though admittedly my state of enfermedad weakened my Spanish comprehension somewhat, who inquired very politely and interestedly about our epic journey before charging us 3.50 for our cab fare. The entrance to the institution was surprisingly flash and modern, with majestic potted plants and sleek, stylized interior design, and somewhat imposing with it's high, arched ceilings segmented by various floors of the atrium. The emergency room, directed to us by a lovely Information Desk attendant, was guarded by a policemen who looked us over briefly and ushered us in via his infra-red security card, was surprisingly different than the lobby. Although the admittance desk was well-staffed and positioned openly to the waiting area, the rest of the emergency room was, truly, one very large room partitioned-off by tall white curtains emblazoned with "Hospital Metropolitano". Each of these "rooms" held an examination table, sink, cabinetry, and a few chairs. After obliging to reveal my cringeworthy passport picture, a nurse escorted Sandy and I into one of the curtained rooms and I promptly changed into a gown (on request, thank you) and reclined on the table. Everything, even the sheets, were printed with the name of the hospital, and were often accompanied by other, less comforting, little reminders of where I was. After the usual blood pressure check, the nurse excused herself and the doctor rushed in and performed a relatively thorough examination, thumping occasionally around the back and asking if it hurt. Afterwards a distinctly humbling moment which I´d rather not record, blood was drawn and my very first IV inserted, and four hours and multiple white patches on my arm later I was released with three different types of medication and "Parasite" branded on my mysterious affliction.
If anything, now pushing day 5 of this wonderful state, I've learned to always, always, purify water. Not just boil. Purify.
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