I've said it before, and I'll say it again:
Being sick abroad is probably the worst thing that can happen to a person.
This time, however, it was not a bad pork dumpling but my good old friend, Streptococcus.
Luckily, I have been blessed with the most wonderful Tico family on earth. They were eager to take me to the doctor at 7pm. Sadly, the doctor leaves at 6, so we just missed her. Fortunately, however, pharmacists can give some drugs here, so they sent me home with a chlorasceptic, which literally was from the pits of hell, and some Claritin.
The next day, I headed back to the doctor right after school. I saw the doctor, and told her that I knew what was wrong. Doing her duty, she inspected me. My favorite part of the visit was when she put the wooden stick on my tongue and told me to say, "Ah." As soon as she set the stick down, my entire throat closed. Perfect.
Obviously, I was very sick. She gave me an anti-inflammatory and sent me home with order to start a 3-day shot regimen the next day.
Doing what I knew I should, I headed to get my shot the next day. Sarah left the morning of this day, so I was already a little culture shocked, and when I went to the doctor only to find out that they didn't have my drugs, I freaked. I lost all ability to speak Spanish, and had no idea what to do. Finally, I found the words and found out that I had to find my own other pharmacy.
Thanks again to my incredible family who had shown me another pharmacy the day before. I headed there to get the first of my shots.
Doctors are inherently awkward, but much more so when in Spanish. I was preparing to get my shot, which was penicillin and you can guess where it went, and the lady said, "Acuestese." I have always struggled with this word, and, in the perfect time, had forgotten what it meant. Doing what I thought seemed logical, I sat myself down on the table. The look she gave me told me that this wasn't correct, so I, awkwardly as possible, lay myself down on my back to receive my shot. I thought to myself, "Hm...strange that they would make me lie on my back to get a shot in my arm."
I then looked at the lady once again and noticed that this also was not correct. Finally, and with as much embarrassment as I have ever felt, I figured out that she wanted me to lie down on my stomach. So again, as awkwardly as possible, I moved all of my things and lay down.
Needless to say, I ran out before they could say much. The next two days of shots went well, and I am now completely healthy.
And the moral of the story is: Never will I ever forget the meaning of "Acuestese."
Being sick abroad is probably the worst thing that can happen to a person.
This time, however, it was not a bad pork dumpling but my good old friend, Streptococcus.
Luckily, I have been blessed with the most wonderful Tico family on earth. They were eager to take me to the doctor at 7pm. Sadly, the doctor leaves at 6, so we just missed her. Fortunately, however, pharmacists can give some drugs here, so they sent me home with a chlorasceptic, which literally was from the pits of hell, and some Claritin.
The next day, I headed back to the doctor right after school. I saw the doctor, and told her that I knew what was wrong. Doing her duty, she inspected me. My favorite part of the visit was when she put the wooden stick on my tongue and told me to say, "Ah." As soon as she set the stick down, my entire throat closed. Perfect.
Obviously, I was very sick. She gave me an anti-inflammatory and sent me home with order to start a 3-day shot regimen the next day.
Doing what I knew I should, I headed to get my shot the next day. Sarah left the morning of this day, so I was already a little culture shocked, and when I went to the doctor only to find out that they didn't have my drugs, I freaked. I lost all ability to speak Spanish, and had no idea what to do. Finally, I found the words and found out that I had to find my own other pharmacy.
Thanks again to my incredible family who had shown me another pharmacy the day before. I headed there to get the first of my shots.
Doctors are inherently awkward, but much more so when in Spanish. I was preparing to get my shot, which was penicillin and you can guess where it went, and the lady said, "Acuestese." I have always struggled with this word, and, in the perfect time, had forgotten what it meant. Doing what I thought seemed logical, I sat myself down on the table. The look she gave me told me that this wasn't correct, so I, awkwardly as possible, lay myself down on my back to receive my shot. I thought to myself, "Hm...strange that they would make me lie on my back to get a shot in my arm."
I then looked at the lady once again and noticed that this also was not correct. Finally, and with as much embarrassment as I have ever felt, I figured out that she wanted me to lie down on my stomach. So again, as awkwardly as possible, I moved all of my things and lay down.
Needless to say, I ran out before they could say much. The next two days of shots went well, and I am now completely healthy.
And the moral of the story is: Never will I ever forget the meaning of "Acuestese."
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