Life and Death at General Hospital

Going back in time to the night I arrived at the hospital. Dario waited calmly while Ana got the car. She didn’t really know what we were in for but answered to Dario’s yodel. He was great, holding my quaking foot tenderly in his hand while conversing with the motorcyclist who came to deliver the buffalo cheese products. I just sat in baffled silence, concentrating on not looking down at my contorted foot. Yuck!

After some scrambling and consideration about my documents someone just grabbed my purse. My dangling foot was wrapped in a bed sheet that had been abandoned in the car from veggie delivery day. Jo, Ana’s mom ended up being my helper in the backseat. Initially Ian was plopped down in the backseat to hold my foot with eyes wide open in astonishment at the circumstances. He was probably soo relieved to give up his space to Jo. She managed to blather on telling me stories about other such incidences. Once, in the gloomy painful silence I begged her to tell me the story about how she met Jorge, her husband…anything to keep my mind off the volumeous moaning coming from my mouth.

The drive was incredibly long and treacherous. The road is rural and made of firm red dirt. Bumps and toggles sent me into a painful tailspin. Ana drive as quickly as she could without causing me harm. Forever and a day later, we arrived at the ER. Ana stayed by my side the entire time, bless her big heart.  We arrived at 8:15pm.

Jo was perusing my purse for any ID. She told Ana, “all she has is candy, lipstick, hairbands and cash…no ID…what is she thinking?” In the end, it didn’t matter.

Intake consisted of this list of questions: NAME: when I told him “Paula Hill” without declaring my middle name, “is that all?” he asked, I honestly didn’t want to bother spelling out Finocchiaro. He had a hard enough time with just my first and last name!

DOB: day/month/year, Mother’s Maiden Name: ended up having to spell it out because it is the same as my middle name and Place of Birth:St Paul threw him as well. The clerk just shrugged when I added “Estados Unidos.” The first medic was a crab, the ER nurse was sympathetic and gave me something for the pain right away. I was wanting to peek at my wobbly foot but Ana told me it was better not to strain myself…yes, it is BAD!

An older passerby woman slid over with a worried look on her face, mind you, this is the ER entryway, to ask Ana what happened to me…she gave her the Cliff Note version-“fell into a hole and broke her foot.” The elder moved on to someone with a better saga.

Didn’t take long and I was whisked into X-ray. The technician was an elder, wise in his comforting tisking. Twisted and turned my foot this way and that but it didn’t seem as bad under his care. They still use the large grey plates that transfer to a door in the wall. Heard a long cranking sound and the sheet came out on the other side. I could tell by his face and the way he ran the results down the hall I would not have a “clean break” diagnosis. He was looking grim while speaking with the guy in a white coat.

Minutes later I was in the Sala de Gesso (Casts) and the doctor went on a bit then obviously asked me a question. I confessed I am a North American and could he speak more slowly. His name is Dr Gebrin and he is the head of the Orthopedic Department and a Surgeon. My condition is severe. It is a terrible break. I have floating fragments of bone. The foot is far too swollen to operate on so I will have to wait four to five days for the swelling to go down. The surgery will be complicated and it will require a plate and some pins. If I want to stay and have the operation, he could do that, unless I prefer to go back to the States for the procedure. I told him I felt in good hands with him and to proceed. His English is halting and minimal yet I also understood most of what he told me. Dr asked me who I wanted for president “Obama” I replied emphatically…thank goodness he is an Obama fan as well. I could have burned my bridges without considering the consequences. As he was writing out the med sheet he asked me if I had any allergies…only to large holes in the ground.

I was zoomed into Room 2 after “lounging” in the ER hall waiting for a bed, with sullen Yolande who barely looked up when I was wheeled-in. Her leg was propped up on a platform, under her foot was a blown-up latex glove. She had a groovy cushy blanket draped over herself and a set mouth to distract my observation. Jo was busy watching the final episode of her novella with the rest of the crowd. Loads of June bugs sailing around the room. Ana came by to say goodbye and shared her version of the ending. 

The terrible first night of undulating under the covers in pain, hollering for the nurse (I didn’t realize there was a call box dangling behind to my head.) Nurse Ratchet refused me more pain meds. I then pleaded for Tylenol, aspirin or even some ice to blanket the pain…no, no, no. She mumbled something about “education” which made absolutely no sense to me. At 5:30am I thought she whispered in my ear that my mom was in the waiting room. Jo had promised to come by early to bring some of my essentials. I even swore I heard her talking down the hall. She got there at 8:30.

Dr Gerbrin came each day to visit (as promised.) I requested something to stave off the sharp pains and he agreed to note it in my chart.

The gang from Sitio Caaete came faithfully as well. Ana, Dario, Ian or any combination of two arrived bearing gifts. I got fresh bread, pao de queijo (one of my favs) books, clothes, homeopathic remedies, pain meds left over from my dental visit and when I opened one of the books, Taelor’s photo dropped into my lap. I nearly cried from missing her so much.

Yolande’s family came and went. They would smuggle in snacks (she is diabetic and insisted she couldn’t eat anything in my bag yet devoured all of her snacks at one time-writing “in one sitting seemed too cruel”) and purr to her while combing her hair or argue with her about I don’t know what. As I understand it, she was hit by a car on her motorcycle and the guy left but they think they know who he is and they all seem to be stalking him…The son was immediately sent off to buy lotion and chips. Her daughter had a plastic bag full of black lingerie that her friend was selling, surprisingly she didn’t offer it to me! Her brothers, sister and sister-in-law came with their father (a tiny slip of a man of Japanese descent.) He perched on the guest chair and didn’t say much of anything. Bobbled out soon after. Yolande’s husband showed up with his bike helmet several times, once wet as a soaked piece of bread. He hovered, petted, fluffed pillows, adjusted her back and ran to get the nurse several times. He seemed to have a lot to say about the perp. One brother who resembled an Italian mobster, open silk shirt, curly black hair protruding out, big bold gold chains dangling from his neck…insisted she should do something about her circumstances. Yolande has been (and still is to this day) stuck in Room 2 since October 7! Tells me she is waiting for a bed in another hospital. She has a broken femur and for whatever reason they cannot do the surgery here. Gads!

I thought Saturday was bath day but as it turns out, every day is Bath Day! A male nurse came in the room and Yolande was one big scowl. She refused to let him stay so he sulked out only returning to help make the bed. I never did see hide nor hair of him again..kinda cute, too bad!

Knew a spongebath was not to my liking so I sighed with relief when the nurse suggested I take a shower in the bathroom. As you may or may not know, women in Brasil shave everything below the waist. As I was hollering for help in the shower, needing a towel or some such necessity..the nurse opened the door. I hopped out on one leg and before I could plant my butt cheek on the bed she was asking me where I am from, claiming it was my accent that gave me away…I do know the truth of it. Probably ran rampid thru the hospital corridors. Had to laugh since my friend Cristina suggested I may want to chirar pele (take off hair) while we were at the salon…”no thanks, I’m good,” I replied. Ha, if I had only known. Perhaps I would have shaven it into a heart shape or something just as quaint!

Saturday flew by and I was exhausted by the end of the long day of doing absolutely nothing.