911

January 27, 2013

Joao bravely drove to the hospital on his own in the wee hours of the morning, progressively suffocating from his Angioedema symptoms. I vaguely recall hearing his voice at my door and he claims to have knocked. I thought I was dreaming. Dragging door-to-door, weakly imploring for help at the gated entryway of each intimate neighbor proved fruitless so he embarked alone. There wasn’t a doctor in attendance at the local hospital this morning, no one expected for hours. Joao asked if the doctor is usually on time, “Occasionally” seemed a satisfactory reply. There were several other patients in the waiting room, one woman was projectile vomiting after being given some fluids. Joao finally received the call to visit with the attending physician who had just recently pulled-in.

Eventually the doctor who appeared to have graduated from Medical School yesterday, after perusing Joao’s medical note (refers to his diagnosis and medications to avoid, including Cortisone,) reviewed his symptoms and its onset then inquired what treatment and remedy he would like! Joao, in a state of complete anxiety and exasperated despair, replied with a resigned shrug, how should he know what is appropriate? The kindergartener left the room and entered with a dark bottle and syringe. Joao asked her what medication she intended to inject him with. The youth showed him the label-Cortisone! Then what would you prefer? Cashasa, Vodka, Cocaine, Morphine he wanted to shout and instead gave her the name of a remedy he has taken successfully in the past. After the injection she told him he could go home though he was obviously without a companion. Is it safe for me to drive? Of course! she exclaimed emphatically. Oh boy. Joao was in tears and shaking in trauma as he relayed his story.  

Joao rests from his shocking ER experience and I am riveted to the Unity podcast this afternoon. Realized my favorite singer, Rachel is performing and I close my eyes to draw in the memory of her face framed in gorgeous red hair. She warms my heart and the service creates a renewed signal between me and my friends in Minneapolis. I can never seem to get that right…myself, me?

Four red roses with garnish and a carefully wrapped gigantic chocolate bar grace the table for Denise and Theo’s arrival. Joao is so terribly excited to have them back in his daily world, scurried about the house and property making sure it is a pristine presentation. I teasingly handed over a rubber child’s spoon to add sugar to his coffee. He has changed his shoes umpteen times and brandished new jeans and a belt to complete the ensemble. Bread warms in the oven, French wine stands admiringly on the service bar and Theo’s favorite Guarana soda chills in the frig. We will slurp stand up and salute coffee while admiring the spic and span house and recently raked yard for an hour and a half before having to leave for the airport across town. Pipo will get his flea bath after I have my afternoon coffee. He can’t wait!