Unzipped

January 18, 2013

My zipper was open.

Joao got wind that his stolen car issues are being resolved. Early this morning the mechanic pulled up to the house to pick up Joao to go to the car pound to inspect the wounded prey. Several parts have to be replaced and the cost of the repairs detailed out. If the sum of said restoration exceeds the value of the car, Joao will part it out and is required to then approach the bench and tell the authorities the outcome. The R$1500 in fines is lurking though he is no longer obliged to pay for the typical incurred storage fees. There was an extensive interview, a series of personal questions and evidently Joao passed the “good guy” test and the additional fines were dismissed. A temporary relief of anticipated expenses since, of course, something else will come along to burst his alleviated bubble…this is Brasil and he is on the upper end of the lower middle class after all!

Finally the day arrived to take care of my foot problem. Joao and I zipped off to the nearby hospital after the lunch hour and between rain bursts where there is promise of a doctor who specializes in orthopedics. Due to the torrential rain and cracking thunder the usual standing room only waiting room crowd was sparse. I waited in the cracked plastic blue seat for a mere ten minutes listening to the drone of the nowhere needy as I patients passed the time.

Perhaps he was once handsome and appealing yet this morning, while waiting his turn at the hospital, I overheard a scruffy faced, wispy hair (quite full at the back and shiny and nearly transparent on top,) wide nose and thin lips character tell his tale. His prolific father left his mother to have an affair with a woman across town who was seemingly more demanding than mum with ten children in need of daily food, clothing and constant attention. Years passed with no direct word from dad, though the rumors of six other siblings pierced through the waves of inexplicable abandonment. And truthfully more unidentified brothers or sisters exist whispered ‘round their incestuous community. Somewhere in the middle of this life of drama, the stocky man continued, he discovered the woman he was dating in his late teens is…his sister! OK, well, his half-sister to be exact. At the end of that sputter I was called in by the attendant.

The straight-faced, matter of fact, stiff, blonde, trim, efficient and pasty white physician at the hospital turned me away after I relayed my need, suggesting I a. go back to the local neighborhood clinic to get a referral for an orthopedic surgeon (and the line is very long for an operation) or b. go directly to the downtown hospital and request surgery as soon as possible though there are no guarantees it would be any quicker than the local clinic. Either way I believe I have to arrive in extreme and obvious pain and extreme agony to get closer to the front tenth of the line that curves around the block and down the street with bleeders, bones protruding thru the skin, oozing gashes and agonizing shrieks. Oh boy, I have my work cut out for me!

Selecting vegetables from the bins of apparently rapidly rotting produce guarantees a few good salads this weekend. Two heads of lettuce, a few small squash, sack of yellow onions, a bunch of bananas, two carrots and two firm green pears ran R$9.15. Joao scraped up the .15 and we were off. Aim to lose some of the Christmas holiday pounds that stuck themselves unwelcomingly to my butt. Cheese, bread and too much beer have been the culprit of my added weight. Hence the salad fixin’s.

Then we come home to find…an exposed pair of visible black underwear?! Great.